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Chapter Text

PROLOGUE

The sky was so clear one could see the stars. But aboard the Vingilótë, Elros wasn't stargazing. The young elf was conscientiously scrubbing the deck of the fishing boat when he heard a rumbling sound from above, and something caught his eye. A huge luminous object, falling from the sky at full speed.

Elros followed its course before it hit the surface of the sea and sank.

Inside the cabin, Eärendil, the captain, was already trying to reach the coastguards.

Elros had completely forgotten his task and was scrutinising the black waters, looking for signs of debris or anything to indicate what had happened. The night was dark again.

“Elrond, did you see that?” Elros shouted to his brother who was standing at the other side of the boat.
Elrond opened his mouth to respond, but they heard Eärendil informing the coastguard that they were replying to an unknown distress signal.

Elros and Elrond both shook their heads.

“That was no distress flare,” both mouthed. None either man had ever seen anyway. Distress flares did not fall from the sky.

Over the radio, the coastguard asked if they could see the vessel in distress. Eärendil called to Elros who had fetched a torch and was scanning the water.

It was choppy, but no signs of a vessel or any debris were in sight.

“I can’t see anything,” he shouted. As he was about to turn back, a movement below the waves caught his eyes. “Hang on!”

His scream pierced the night air. Elros was gone.

“Mayday, Mayday!” Eärendil yelled into the microphone. “Man overboard! Man overboard!”

Elrond was already at the helm, scanning the waters for his twin brother.

He grabbed at the railing, but his hand slipped off. Elrond lifted it . Blood. He opened his mouth to scream when a spear-like tentacle shot out of the water and gored through his chest .

“Ulmo save us!” Eärendil was horrified. This had not just happened. Not in the Misty Sound. Reality hit; both of his sons were gone. He jumped up and screamed “Elrond! Elros!”

He grabbed an axe, now deaf to the calls of the coastguards who kept repeating “ Vingil ótë , emergency rescue team dispatched . Please Respond. Over”

He took a deep breath and rushed down the rickety stairs. All he could hear was the creaking of the wood and the lapping from the sea. As he stood at the helm, he looked upwards and froze.

Nobody heard his scream as the creature stabbed him before dragging him into the sea. The wind and the waves and the coastguard on the radio were the only sounds to be heard.

CHAPTER ONE

Kíli woke up, his pulse throbbing painfully in his head, fingers still clutched around a nearly empty whiskey bottle. Like many other nights, he had fallen asleep fully clothed on this couch after a lonely drunken evening.
The young dwarf groaned as he sat up on the sofa and rubbed his forehead. The sun was already up and the light pouring aggressively from the window wasn’t helping his headache at all.

He grumbled a few curses and tried to get up. He knew this day was a big one: he had to pick up a colleague coming from the mainland today, and he’d better be there on time to welcome him.

Realising he was still holding last night’s bottle, he downed it in a single gulp before chucking it carelessly into the trashcan among the others.

He hadn’t got the time to wash or even check himself in the mirror. Anyway, he knew what he’d find: handsome features hidden behind the grey mask of alcoholism. Kíli sighed and rubbed his face in a miserable attempt to completely wake up.

C’mon Kíli, get up! Let’s not make the Jackeen wait.

Slightly swaying, the dwarf grabbed his uniform jacket and his car keys. The fresh air coming from the sea and the sunlight hit his face as he got out of his house. He blinked painfully before shaking his head, and he eventually got in the car.
Today was going to be very long, indeed.

*~*

Fíli was standing at the helm of the ferry crossing the Misty Sound to Erebor Island. His back was perfectly straight, his garda uniform immaculate. He hardly noticed the wind tugging at his blond hair.

The dwarf was focused on the tiny island that had come into sight. The weather was unusually mild; the summer air was warm and salty, and the sea so calm the ferry was barely rocking, making its way smoothly.

Yet Fíli eyed Erebor with apprehension. Remote islands were not his area of expertise, having grown up in Dublin, where he had worked as a guard for the past few years. He had never lived outside the city and ever since he got his job, he had not travelled outside of it. Compared to his daily work in the busy city, this would indeed be a holiday. No serious crime could happen here.

As they approached the harbour, gliding past Thrain Point, he became aware that he was holding his hat in his hands and quickly put in on, taming his hair. He took a deep breath.

There were bus stops twice the size of this harbour in Dublin. It was a miracle that there were any other people on the ferry. As the Entulessë pulled into it, a handful of people were already waving at the other passengers, mostly children waiting to go to school on the mainland. Nearly all of them were dwarves, with a few elves and humans sticking out from the crowd.

Fíli nodded to himself and grabbed his suitcase, walking off the ferry behind the other passengers who were greeted by friends and family. A large sign with a silly sun welcomed him to Erebor. The sun was wearing sunglasses. Not a promising introduction to the island.

He looked around. The email he had received had promised that somebody called Kíli O’Shea would pick him up (he wondered if that had been a joke).

He opened the map he had purchased on the mainland, but as soon as he had opened it, a gust of wind ripped it out of his hands. He hastily put a foot on it and bent down to retrieve it. When he came back up, he spotted the police car standing at the other side of the harbour. A man was slouching against it. He could either be a tall, skinny dwarf, or a small, stocky human. O’Shea was a familiar name among dwarves as well as humans. Or maybe he had mixed heritage? Mixed marriages were common in Dublin, but not so much in the countryside. Fíli dismissed this thought as irrelevant and marched briskly as usual up to the car.

“Hi! I’m Garda Fíli Nolan. You must be Garda Kíli O’Shea.”

The man frowned and didn’t look up from the ground. He mumbled something Fíli didn’t catch.

“Excuse me?”

“You getting in or what?” The other’s voice was gravelly, and he looked vaguely unwell.

“I have a bag.”

“Put it in the back then.”

He still didn’t look at him, as if the bright daylight was hurting his eyes even though it was a relatively cloudy day. Fíli bit his lips and walked to the boot. He had half-expected it to be a cluttered mess and was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t.

Without further ceremony, Fili’s welcoming committee flopped into the driver’s seat with an annoyed huff and waited.

Once Fíli got into the car he wrinkled his nose. He doubted that this man was legally allowed to drive, he reeked of whiskey. Instead of starting their professional relationship by testing the other guard’s alcohol level, he rummaged in his pocket.

“Do you want a mint?”

“No, thanks. They give me heartburn.”

Fíli pocketed the mints and looked out of the car window, ignoring the way in which his driver was barely able to keep his eyes open or drive straight. Luckily, they were alone on the road.
The island was as thinly populated as it looked on the map. To their left was the Misty Sound, on the right a few houses could be seen scattered through the sparse landscape.

*~*

Today was a good day to take the dog for a walk in the dunes. That’s what Dr Oin Gleeson had thought when he got up in the morning. The weather was fine, not too windy, and Minty was having a good time running through the lyme grass.

The old dwarf paused for a moment to take in the beautiful scenery in front of him. The sea was calm, and the clear sky allowed him to see until Mahal Point. A few more steps on the beach below and they’d be good to go.

Minty was happily barking while chasing a seagull when something caught Dr Gleeson’s eye.

“What in Mahal’s name… ?” he muttered, horrorstruck.
About twelve whales were stranded on the beach.

*~*

Meanwhile, the two guards had arrived at a neat white house, the island’s police station.

The serjeant Fili was replacing greeted him more cordially than O’Shea had done. He was in a good mood: he wore in his civilian clothes already, ready to go on a well deserved two week holiday.

“Garda Nolan, I’m Dori Kenefick. It is lovely to have you.”

“I am happy to be here,” Fíli assured him.

He had already known the man’s name of course. Out of the corners of his eyes, he could see O’Shea pouring himself some coffee. Thinking he could use some as well, Fíli pulled his personal mug from his bag and handed it to the other guard.

“Coffee would be lovely, thank you.”

Kíli looked at the mug (a regular Garda mug! They didn’t even own one in the station) as if he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it. The serjeant just smiled.

“So, what do you think of this place?”

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”

And it really was. O’Shea cut in.

“Quiet as shite. - Milk?”

Even working in one of Dublin’s busiest police stations Fíli wasn’t used to this much grumpiness.

“What kind?”

O’Shea blinked and deadpanned: “Cow’s.”

“I just take it black, thanks.”

Sergeant Kenefick showed him his desk and remarked. “It will be dead this weekend with half of the island leaving for the show in Dale.”

Fíli smiled. “I am sure I’ll find something to do.”

He took his mug back from O’Shea. Coffee half drowned with milk. He frowned, but O’Shea had already turned away, pulling the serjeant to the side.  Straining his ears, Fíli could just make out what they were saying.

“Is he really necessary?” O’Shea stage-whispered.

“You tell me, boy.”

“You’ll be away two weeks. I can handle two weeks.” He took a big sip from his cup. The serjeant glared at him.

“You could, but you wouldn’t!”

*~*

The Númerrámar was back, her hold full of lobster pots as it arrived at Erebor island.

On the dock, Bofur was unloading the last pot when he heard something squealing inside. The sudden sound surprised him so much that he almost dropped his basket. What the heck was in there?

Now intrigued, the dwarf tried to peer through the seaweed covering the pot, but he couldn’t see a thing. Bofur put the pot down and called out to his coworker.

“Dior, take a look at this!”

The half-elf cast a sceptical look at the dwarf but joined him anyway, driven by curiosity.

“He’s a big ‘un.”

“That’s not a lobster,” suggested Bofur.

“Then what is it?” asked Dior crouching by the pot to try and see what was inside.

The trapped creature growled and hissed before spitting a thick jet of a clear liquid square into Dior’s face and eyes. The half-elf yelled in shock and disgust. Why were Bofur’s twisted tricks always aimed at him? The dwarf’s bad taste humour was really getting on his nerves.

“Agh! You bastard, you, Bofur! You knew it was going to do that!”

“I didn’t, on me life!” protested Bofur, and for once it was the truth.

“Ugh, the smell!” grunted Dior while gagging and trying to wipe his face. The scent coming from the thick sticky fluid was indeed horrendous. It was like a mix of rotten eggs, hot bile and silt.  

“What is it?”

“‘Tis no feckin’ lobster.”

Chapter Text

Fíli was back in the car with Kíli, and they were heading to the beach after a call from the local doctor. Apparently, several whales were stranded on the sand, and their death seemed quite suspicious.

Coffee had luckily helped the other guard to sober up a bit, and his driving was more coordinated. He looked almost friendly now. Maybe it was time to fraternise a bit so they could work together efficiently.

Fíli was thinking about an appropriate subject for a professional conversation when Kíli talked first. Agreeably surprised, Fíli replied.

“I had some holidays coming up, and this posting came up, and I thought “what harm, why not? Can’t hurt with the review board, you know!”” Fíli let out a nervous chuckle and didn’t notice the slight mocking look dancing in Kíli’s eyes.

“Ah, the old reviewboard… Where you’re stationed?”

“Dublin centre.”

“How is that working out for you?”

“Oh, it’s great. Drugs, murder, muggings, always something exciting.”

Kíli chuckled.

“Oh, you can relax. There is none of that here.”

“You never know. It’s always the quiet places where the mad shit happens. Just open a paper,” answered Fíli in his natural serious and quiet tone.

Mahal, is he even real?! How can someone be so uptight?   Two weeks, Kíli. It won’t be fun, but you can do it.

Kíli smiled poorly and shook his head, trying to focus on the road. Two. Long. Weeks.

*~*

The Gardai appeared to be the last people to make it to the stranded pilot whales. They parked above the small cliff leading to the beach, which was already populated by curious islanders. The sun was low by now, blinding the dwarves as they got out of the car and headed to the waterfront.

Fíli put his hat back on, which shielded his eyes as well as conforming to the guidelines, and noticed that Kíli had not done so.

Several people were already examining the dead whales. The black corpses were smaller than Fíli had expected - large animals, to be sure, but not as massive as expected. Dead whales were certainly not something he had ever dealt with in Dublin though.

Somebody had already found the time to put several wooden poles next to the whales. It looked like professional work.

As soon as Oín Gleeson spotted the Gardai, he walked up to his old patient, Kíli.

“In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it,” he shouted by way of greeting. The doctor was known to forget continually to switch on his hearing aid. In his excitement he only noticed the stranger when Kíli mumbled:

“Fíli Nolan, Oín Gleeson, the local doctor.”

The doctor smiled broadly at Fíli despite not having caught the name as they were walking towards the whales.

“Hello, how are you, my boy?”

Fíli shook the doctor’s hand quickly before he assumed a professional stride again.

“Grand, thanks.”

“You wouldn’t have any aspirin on you, would ya?” Kíli said so loudly that he hurt his head. Oín shook his head.

“I’ve got wine gums? Would you like a wine gum?”

“Aww, naw.” Kíli groaned again, trying to shield his eyes from the low sun.

The doctor spotted a couple of local women next to a whale and laughed in delight: “Oh, look who’s here!”

Fíli suspected that the doctor was off to tell his tale to a more appreciative audience than a clearly hungover Garda.

“I would prefer it if you’d introduce me as Garda Nolan,” he told his new colleague sternly, earning a frown.

“Nobody minds.”

“I do.”

Kíli just shook his head.

They approached a small man, crouching next to one of the whales, a pen in his mouth. He was busy swabbing a sample from the whale’s fin. Kíli glared at him.

“What happened?”

The man didn’t look up from his task. “One second, please.”

Deep gashes marred the whale’s lifeless flank and fins. Fíli wrinkled his nose; the stench of death was unmistakable.

The man straightened, and Fíli belatedly noticed that he was a hobbit. The scientist gave Fíli an appreciative once over and smiled broadly, offering him his stretched hand over the dead whale.

“Bilbo Baggins-Smith.”

English accent. Cute. Efficient. Fíli smiled back and shook Bilbo’s hand.

“Fíli Nolan.”

The beaming smile Bilbo gave Fíli told him that the hobbit welcomed another outsider to Erebor.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Kíli butted in. The glaring sun didn’t help his patience with the two outsiders.

“Boggins is a marine psychologist or something. Is that right?”

“Baggins. Baggins-Smith and no, it’s marine ecology. Could you hold this for a second?”

He handed Kíli a measuring tape and took the other end.

“So, how long are you here for?” he enquired, looking at Fíli rather than the dead animal.

“Two weeks.”

“Ooooooooh, wonderful, wonderful. Whereabouts are you staying?”

Fíli lifted his eyebrow; his good opinion lowered a few pegs. Whereabouts would anyone stay in this place when they were only here for two weeks? There was only one inn on the entire island, and it was the local pub.

Kíli frowned, wishing himself elsewhere. The sun, the foul smell, the outrageous way Bilbo flirted with his colleague, all these combined were a sore trial for a man who had too much to drink and too little sleep.

“So, erm, they’re, er, dead.”

Bilbo sighed and shook his head, looking at Fíli to get some sympathy.

“Oh no no no, they’re not dead, they’re just sleeping! Of course, they’re dead!”

Ignoring Bilbo’s sarcasm, Fíli looked around the beach. Some people were still milling around the beach, elves mainly, who looked like tiny hobbits next to the large lifeless bodies.

“So what happened?”

Bilbo let go of the tape.

“Well, they’re pilot whales. It happens with them from time to time, but no one knows why.”

Fíli wasn’t sure what their job here was - the deaths were clearly suspicious, but he certainly didn’t know anything about whales, dead or otherwise.

“What are all these deep cuts?” he enquired, studying a nasty gash that nearly severed the whale’s fin. Didn’t look natural. Bilbo grimaced.

“Possible wounds from the rocks when they washed up here.”

Fíli nodded, trying to appear knowledgeable. “They didn’t beach themselves?”

“Oh no, no, they died at sea.”

Bilbo turned to sea with a slight frown. Kíli followed his gaze. It didn’t look like there were any sharp rocks in the area, certainly none on which a whale could sustain multiple gashes, to his side and his belly.

The sea was still calm, as it had been when Fíli arrived in the morning. Seagulls shrieked. Some of the white menaces were already feasting on the whales furthest south.

Behind them, Kíli spoke up.

“All of them? At once?” His voice held all the scepticism Fíli felt.

Bilbo bit his lips and nodded. “It’s a strange one, all right.”

Kíli looked up to where the cars stood.

“Where’s Thorin? Maybe he could tell us more?”

Bilbo frowned, all traces of good-humour vanished.

“Professor Oakenshield,” he said acidly, “is returning from Dublin this afternoon’s ferry.”

Kíli checked his watch, groaning.

“So just about now. He will have heard about this from someone.”

“He will.” Kíli turned to his new colleague. “All right, let’s go. We don’t need to dawdle.”

Fíli had never in his life been accused of dawdling and was about to tell this insolent islander so, but Kíli had already turned his back on them and headed straight to the car. It was up to Fíli to take his leave of the marine ecologist and to remind him to sent his findings as soon as possible.

*~*

“Where are we going now?” asked Fíli as he was struggling to catch up with his colleague. That Kíli bloke had immense legs for a dwarf, and his stride was hard to follow.

Without a backwards glance, the other guard harshly answered “We’re going to Yanâd Durinul to see Elladan. We need to get this beach cleared before sunset.”

Kíli’s sharp tone prevented Fíli from asking further questions.

The barren insular landscape was passing past Fíli’s eyes once again. His colleague who was almost friendly an hour earlier was now silently brooding over some impenetrable thoughts.

First, he drinks, and now those mood swings? Mahal, these two weeks are going to be long…

Kíli hadn’t meant to be unpleasant. It’s just that he had trouble to keep his calm around the mere evocation of his uncle, Thorin Oakenshield. The latter was a researcher and a professor teaching Marine Science at Durin University in Dublin. He was also Erebor’s mayor. A great man with great responsibilities.

If Kíli had to choose a word defining his relationship with his uncle, it would be “complicated”.
The two men had been more or less on bad terms for years now, and Kíli just couldn’t face an encounter with his uncle. Not now. Not after Legolas had broken his heart. Thorin had disapproved of Kíli’s choice of marrying an elf, arguing that interracial marriages simply couldn’t last. And he had been right, as always.
Now that Legolas was out of the picture, Thorin had only been there to weigh Kíli down, always finding an occasion to blame his stubbornness and his lack of wisdom.
Legolas had left two years ago, but the wound was still raw and deep.

At length, Kíli’s mood lightened a bit. Driving had always had a relaxing effect on him. However, focusing on the road was a bit tricky, for the presence of Fíli was a little distracting. The mainlander might be uptight; he was quite easy on the eye, though.

In an attempt to break the ice, Kíli put his left hand up with his fingers skyward and asked “What’s “that” ?”

Fíli started a bit and looked at the other guard in disbelief. Eventually, he flatly answered, “It’s a hand in a claw position.”

Kíli didn’t get flustered. Worse, he continued. He put his fingers in the opposite position and said: “It’s a dead one of those”.

An awkward silence settled. Well, it was awkward to Fíli only because Kíli was patiently waiting, a smirk on his face, his eyes dangerously leaving the road once again to fix on Fíli’s face, looking for a reaction.

“That’s good, that, isn’t it?”
“I don’t get it.”

“You don’t get it?”

“No.”
“What’s not to get?” And Kíli insisted, repeating his gesture “What’s that? It’s a dead one of those!”

“Nope. I still. Don’t. Get it.” Fíli snickered nervously and looked through the window to end this pathetic exchange.

Seeing it was hopeless, Kíli settled his gaze back on the road, and the two guards remained silent until they arrived at Elladan’s construction site.

*~*

Kíli parked the car in a huge puddle. As soon as Fíli got out, he felt the mud spray the entire length of his leg, and he winced in disgust.

A couple of Blacklock dwarves were sitting on a heap of dirty sand next to rusty containers, sharing a pipe when they arrived. Their luscious beards were caked with dirt from the construction site; a beard was a dwarf’s pride and Fíli hadn’t thought it possible that any respectable dwarves would allow their beards to get into this state - the Blacklocks in the city would never do so.

They stared down at the two newcomers. One leered and whistled when Fíli straightened. The Garda glared at the dirty dwarf and pulled out his notebook.

“You there, what’s your name?”

“Mi targê! Takhlibi mi razûkh!”

The answer set the two mates falling backwards trying to contain their laughter. Fíli bit his lips. He didn’t understand Blacklock Khuzdul (as a city dweller, his grasp on Khuzdul was feeble anyway).  Pocketing his notebook, he promised himself to check later if those insolent dwarves had a proper work permit. It wouldn’t be hard to find the culprits names, a construction company on such a tiny island couldn’t have many employees.

He turned around to follow Kíli when he heard the next words the dwarves shouted: “Me bintarg!” - any Garda in Dublin knew those words. “You are beardless”, one of the worst insults between dwarves and the beginning of many a brawl.

When Fíli looked back, however, they were not looking at him anymore. They stared after Kíli, making rude gestures indicating the lack of Kíli’s beard and his skinny shape. Fíli bristled. He would get those dwarves for insulting Gardai like this. He might not be impressed with the capabilities Kíli had exhibited so far, but none of those had to do with his untraditional appearance. Fíli even had to admit to himself that Kíli’s unique looks would be very attractive were the man less drunk.

Kíli hadn’t even noticed the dwarves; he was focused on his mission to get the whales off the beach as quickly as possible. He hurried up the little slope that led to the working side, his steps steady despite his alcohol level and the slippery mud.

A digger blocked his way, but he recognised the driver as one of his elvish drinking buddies.

“Lindir, where’s Elladan?”

Lindir frowned slightly. It was unusual that Kíli showed up in an official capacity, but he pointed to the top of the building site, where a tall half-elf was yelling at an unfortunate young apprentice, who had barely more beard than Kíli:
“Put that pipe out, or I’ll go down and use the top of your knob as an ashtray!”

The Garda grimaced. The half-elf was pissed off about something, which never bode well.  Kíli would have thought Elladan was happy to have a job on the island - while Lindir and Elladan’s families had lived in Erebor for centuries, the company was based on the mainland. They were currently building some holiday homes for affluent Dubliners on the island - dwarves from the city who wanted to get in touch with their rural roots.

Kíli approached the half-elf carefully.

“Hey, Elladan. Busy?”

“Oh, O’Shea! No, just stripping down an oil tank. Where’s the sarge?”

“Away on his holiday. Leaving me up shit creek.”

“Why? What’s up with you?”
Kíli discreetly pointed to Fíli, who was standing a few feet away from them, waiting to be introduced at some point. Elladan hardly glanced at the other guard, uninterested in having more contact than necessary with an unknown law enforcement officer.

Kíli murmured, not sure to be out of earshot "Do you remember that favour you owe me? Well, I'm looking for some boys to help move a few "things" off the beach there. It's an hour's work tops."

"What sort of "things" ?"

*~*

Bofur, the fisherman,  was living alone in a remote house on the north coast of Erebor, near Khazad-dûm. The old bachelor loved being away from his neighbours. If he wanted company, he just had to take his bicycle and pedal to Dwalin’s tavern.

Currently, he had company from that odd creature he had caught in his lobster pot earlier. The thing was hissing and snarling when Bofur picked the basket up, protected by an old welding helmet and his yellow rubber pants.

The tap still spluttered water into the rusty bathtub when Bofur carried the heavy basket into the bathroom. He took care when he lowered the thing into the bath, half submerging the pot. The creature gurgled with what sounded like appreciation when it came into contact with water.

Bofur put the mask up to take a closer look at his catch - all that he could see through the thick mesh was something tightly coiled and midnight blue. Bofur had been finding all kind of sea creatures since he was a small dwarfling, but he had never in all his life seen anything like this. A worried look crossed the dwarf’s weathered face. He needed a drink.

*~*

By the time the whales had been loaded into the trucks, the sun had set. The remaining light painted the hills in smoky grey. The workers had diligently removed the whales and Bilbo’s poles. The atmosphere was getting heavy, the unmistakable smell of impending rain lingering in the air.

As the last truck was leaving, Elladan took a look around him to check if his workers had packed all the tools. They could be so negligent sometimes. It was infuriating.

His eyes were raking the beach when he spotted Lindir in the distance. This one, always behind everyone… and he had forgotten the damn shovels. Again!

Elladan shook his head in annoyance, and shouted “Lindir! The shovels! Don’t be leaving things behind ye!”
Without a backwards glance, the half-elf headed to his car to load the last of his gear.

Lindir rolled his eyes but ran along the deep tracks of the trucks to his neglected shovel (singular, despite Elladan’s claims).  He could hear Elladan muttering “Gobshite” before turning towards his car.

The last truck had left the beach, leaving an eery silence behind as Lindir knelt down in the sand. His elvish eyes had spotted something unusual - Lindir had known this beach for hundreds of years so when his hands dug out a yellowish globe he was troubled. Nothing like this had ever been found on Erebor’s shores. He lifted it up. He never got a chance to examine it.

As soon as he had taken the mysterious globe in his hands, something incredibly strong grabbed his legs from behind and yanked to knock him over. The elf got dragged forcefully towards the water as if pulled by a rope. Shock turned into dread when he realised that he would die alone on this beach, and panic took over. Lindir yelled in terror. His fingers scrambled frantically for purchase on the wet sand, leaving deep trenches in their wake. His screams turned into gurgles and were muffled as soon as the sea swallowed him whole.

Unaware of Lindir’s tragical fate, Elladan was waiting in his car, his patience getting thinner every passing minute. He played with his phone, hoping he would finally get some news from his father, uncle and grandfather. They were supposedly lost at sea, but there was no better mariner than Eärendil. Still no word.

The nodding dog on his dashboard just put him further on the edge. Elves could be very, very patient … but Elladan had very little for his old friend and employee right now. Centuries ago, Lindir’s dawdling had been endearing. Now it was just aggravating.    

The romantic pink colour of the sky contradicted Elladan’s mood as he stalked across the beach with his torch, swearing under his breath. Age had not made Lindir any more dependable. At length, he found the shovel, but there was no sign of the errant elf.

“Lindir!”

His anxious shout echoed across the empty and now dark beach.

“Lindir!” Adding almost pensively: “Where are you, gobshite.”

Chapter Text

It was an unusually quiet Saturday night in the drab tap room of Dwalin’s Tavern. Most islanders had gone to the festival on the mainland, dwarves and elves alike.  Kíli sat at the bar next to Bofur, demolishing his first Whiskey of the evening. He didn’t pay attention to the other dwarves, just trailing the rim of his glass thoughtfully.

He looked up at the tube TV perching atop a wooden liquor cabinet, because there really wasn’t anything more exciting to do.

It had been a long day, and all he wanted to do was drink and put his mind to sleep.

His attention was caught when he recognized the vessel on the screen - the Vingilótë. The fishing boat of Elladan’s grandfather. The comment washed over him.

"...last night but the coast guards found the vessel just hours ago, and by then the men were no longer on board. With bad weather set to hamper tomorrow's search, the hope of finding the missing fishermen alive has grown bleaker by the hour. Officials believe the crew of the Vingilótë were washed overboard..."

That didn’t seem right. While Kíli didn’t believe every story the elves told (rumour had it the first Vingilótë had been a proud four-mast sailing ship), Eärendil had been facing the perils of the sea for well over 1000 years, and his two sons nearly as long. Those were not the kind of people who would be washed overboard by a simple storm. It may have rattled the windows and tossed the ships around a little bit, but the elves had faced worse even in Kíli’s lifetime.

Kíli looked up as the door opened. That must be Lindir. Or Elladan. Somebody to discuss this disappearance with. He frowned when he noticed his new colleague striding in as if he owned the place. Holy forges of Mahal. Was he nowhere safe from that stiff stick?

Fíli ignored both Kíli and Bofur, who was lost in thought next to him. The blond dwarf craned his head over the bar to look for Dwalin, the landlord, but also Kíli’s godfather.

Dwalin, who had hovered at the other end of the pub to evade his two best customers, approached his lodger - and Fíli gave him a smile Kíli had so far not been privileged to see. It made the blond look so much younger and … his eyes zoomed in on the other’s cheek. Those dimples.

“I’m just looking for an iron,” Fíli told Dwalin and part of the vision of ethereal beauty vanished. An iron. Of course. So he could continue looking as if he sprang from a bleeding fashion catalogue.

The evening was young, but the dwarf had already changed and was wearing grey sweatpants, a white tank top, and a light cardigan. He had gathered his hair in a neat bun, and Kíli stared at him maybe a little bit too long.

Fíli noticed his colleague insistent glance and quickly fixed his eyes on the worn counter before daring to look up again. Kíli’s look was still frozen on him. Damn! This was so awkward he had to do something.

“Hiya.” Fíli mentally slapped himself. He had hoped this would have sounded more assured.

Kíli got out of his trance and addressed a shy smile to the other dwarf before quickly retreating into his drink. It was ridiculous.

As soon as Dwalin came back and handed him the iron, Fíli fled to his room with a hasty “See you tomorrow”. Kíli nodded into his drink and watched him go.

In an instant, Nori, Dwalin’s wife, appeared in front of him as if by magic, her keen, piercing eyes already trying to read his thoughts. She must have observed the whole scene from the other side of the bar, and her avid mind had done the rest. She smoothed her beard and gave Kíli a pointed look. At this instant, the poor dwarf knew he was in trouble.

"As a woman to a man, now, I tell you, O'Shea, there's a twinkle in the eye there for you."

Kíli almost choked on his whiskey "What?"

"Do you like him?" Mahal, she was serious. Kíli fidgeted on his seat, ill at ease.

"He's all right. A bit uptight." And that was the understatement of the year.

“You should talk to him."

"I do talk to him."

"I mean talk to him."

Dwalin bravely tried to give his godson assistance "Leave him off, Nori!"

To this words, the dwarrowdam gave a hint of a sarcastic smile "Do you listen to him? Eight years I was waiting for him to go down on his knee! Have you ever heard the like of it?"

Here we go again! Thought Kíli, unable to suppress a snort. Nori’s old rant was known by all the tavern’s customers, even the temporary ones. All Kíli had to do now was to wait for the end of the storm.

"My family thought I was mad wasting my time on him.”

The mere evocation of Nori’s relatives made Dwalin grumble  "Ah, feck them!"

Both Kíli and Bofur ducked instinctively.

"Ah feck you, Dwalin!"

The two spouses sized each other up with menacing looks, just like two cats about to fight. Eventually, Dwalin lowered his gaze and let his wife storm out. She had won the battle of glares, as always.

Dwalin turned to Kíli. “Same again, my boy?”

Without waiting for Kíli’s answer, he topped his glass up, ignoring Bofur, who had raised his own as well.

The fisherman looked longingly at Kíli’s whiskey. Kíli deemed to acknowledge his presence with an ungraceful “What is it, Bofur?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know …” Bofur’s eyes twinkled with mischief, but after this day, Kíli was in no mood for a silly yarn.

“Not really, no.”

Bofur was unfazed. “You would, though,” he said confidently.

“No. Not really.”

“You would,” Bofur insisted, tapping his nose. Dwalin’s snort echoed through the pub , but Bofur ignored the landlord. “If you were to know what I know, you would.”

Kíli had even less desire to continue this particular game. “All right, tell us then!”

Bofur moved closer to him, and Kíli leant instinctively away. The man smelt even worse than usual.

“Between you and me … I caught meself a sea monster today.”

That was possibly the 100th sea monster Bofur had seen (or heard his father talk about) but the first time he claimed he’d actually caught one. The hatted dwarf nodded as if to affirm what he just said.

“I swear to Mahal, may he strike me down with his mighty hammer.”

Dwalin barked out a laugh , and Bofur replied with a choleric: “Feck off, you!”

Kíli just sighed. “All right. And where is it now?”

“In my bathtub!” Bofur announced with a flourish.

“In your bathtub.” Kíli had preferred the stories Bofur had told him when he was a child. More heroism and fewer bathtubs.

“Having a bath!” Bofur laughed, eyes sparkling with mirth as he nearly fell off his bar stool. He looked at Dwalin, but the landlord had crossed his arms and just glared at this particular patron, so Bofur turned to Kíli and shoved him good-naturedly.

Kíli decided that he would rather drink his own whiskey in peace than endure Bofur’s attempts at humour any longer and got up.

“Good night, Bofur.”

Bofur sunk down on his chair a little bit, taking a sip from the nearly empty glass.

“Ignorant bollix,” he mumbled.

Kíli stopped.

“What did you say?”

Bofur looked away from the other dwarves. “Nothing. I didn’t say a word.”

“He called you a bollix,” Dwalin informed his godson with some glee.

Bofur glared at him. “Listen, you, if this wasn’t the only feckin’ pub on this shittin’ island, I’d piss in it sooner than come in here!”

Dwalin shrugged. “Fine. You’re barred.”

“Oh come on! I was joking! Another one here, now!” The fisherman thumped his glass on the bar, the sound echoing through the empty room while Kíli walked out, deciding to forego the company of other dwarves for the night.

*~*

It was late, and the rain was swirling in the howling wind, rattling forcefully on Dior and Nimloth’s house overlooking the beach. A storm was on its way, for sure.

The fisherman was dozing off in his ancient armchair while watching “The night of the living dead”.

They’re coming to get you, Barbara! They’re coming for you!

Dior started at a noise. Someone was banging on his front door. Instinctively, the half-elf checked the time on the clock. 23h15. He frowned. Who could that be?

“Nimloth!”

Upstairs, Dior’s wife was just getting out of the shower, wrapped in a thick bathrobe, her feet comfortably tucked in the pair of pink fuzzy slippers Dior had always hated. Deaf to her husband’s call, she started drying her hair.

Another loud bang on the door. Dior was losing his patience, but he still didn’t want to get up.

“Nimloth!!”

The hair dryer stopped.

“What?”

“Someone’s at the door!”

Annoyed, Nimloth tightened her bathrobe around herself and hissed “I’m not dressed!”. Without waiting for her husband’s answer, she resumed drying her hair.

“All right, all right… ,” muttered Dior, vexed to be obliged to get up. Nightly visits were always a synonym for trouble. Mainly coming from a certain dwarf colleague of his who liked to play pranks on him.

Dior grumbled, “That better not be Bofur and his stinking lobster...”

He walked to the door and looked out through the peephole. He froze.

Curious, Nimloth had stopped drying her hair and was pricking up her ears, alert. As her husband wasn’t making any sound, she called out “Dior, who is it?”

The half-elf tiptoed to the bottom of the stairs and whispered: “It’s that bloody Elladan, and he’s pissed as a fart!”

He could feel his wife roll her eyes from downstairs. Nimloth just hated Elladan. Despite his well-respected family, he was a scoundrel and a drunk; Nimloth considered both him and Bofur to be bad influences on her husband and a danger to their budget.

“Don’t give that cowboy any money! He’ll piss it up against the wall!”

Dior silently nodded, and walked back to the door, still hesitating. Should he open it, or ignore his friend?

Another loud bang. Dior started again and braced himself. Eventually, he opened the door. In this remote spot, knowing that the local Garda was most likely pissed by this time (and the other Garda a stranger), you could not let anyone stand in the rain.

Elladan was up in the raw light of Dior’s front porch, swaying in the wind, his arms raised high above his head, his face alarmingly pale, his glance fixed and expressionless.

Dior gulped. His guts were screaming to turn on his heels and leave Elladan on the spot. But something wasn’t right; his friend in mischief was unusually silent.

“Elladan! You look like death! What are you doing?”

No answer.

Nimloth had silently come down the stairs and was hovering right behind her husband. Dior started again when she put a hand on his shoulder, and the two spouses exchanged a frightened look.

Suddenly, Elladan twirled around, his arms still up, looking like a grotesque imitation of a ballerina.

“What does he want?” , hissed Nimloth.

“To dance?!?”

This was ridiculous. Dior was about to tell his friend to go to hell and sober up when Elladan suddenly collapsed in a heap onto the ground.

In an instant, Dior was at his friend’s side, bending over to check on him.

“Sweet Ulmo! Elladan, are you all right, mate?”

Nimloth had clasped her hands on her mouth to force back a nervous scream. All of a sudden, something sharp skewered her husband's chest and pulled him up in the sky; it happened too fast for her to see what was going on. Blinded by fear and crying out her husband's name, Nimloth ran outside to try and see where Dior had vanished.

She felt the cold tendrils of fear creeping across her skin at the vision of the enormous creature sitting on her roof, and she hurried back inside the house as fast as she could, her slippers slithering on the soggy ground.

Panic seized her as she heard her husband yelling and screaming for help. Instincts yet kicking in, Nimloth ran around the house. Locking all doors and windows.

Once barricaded in, the elf leant against a wall and tried to calm down, but her breath was still coming in fast pants. After a while, she pricked her ears, on the lookout, but silence had fallen.

Nimloth breathed sharply through her nose, attempting to think rationally. Suddenly , her eyes widened in horror. The chimney’s trap! She had forgotten the chimney’s trap!

Her legs shaking, she stepped into the living room. A muffled thud coming from above made her jump and shriek. Silently begging Nienna to not let her die, she crouched in front of the fireplace.

Ok, this is easy, I can do this!

Nimloth’s wrecked nerves were making her whole body tremble like a leaf in the autumn wind. She gasped and bit her tongue when she heard the beast ease its way inside the chimney. Soot fell onto her, making her whimper.

Mustering all the courage she could find, Nimloth knelt on the edge of the fireplace and arched her back to reach out and grab the trap inside the chimney flue. Her hands were groping around the cold wall in quest of the handle when a squelching noise getting closer brought panic tears to her eyes.

Sweet Nienna, please, don’t let me die here!  

But the Lady of Mercy didn’t hear Nimloth’s silent prayer. The elf got speared and dragged up the chimney, leaving her pink fuzzy slippers behind her.

*~*

Back at Dwalin’s tavern, Kíli had been prevented from going home by the downpour that was drenching the island. He had been sitting on the floor of the dank hallway, nursing his private little flask of whiskey. His phone listed five missed calls by Thorin he didn’t plan to answer until the morning. His own calls to Lindir, that bastard, had been unanswered. He had even tried Elladan with no success.

Sitting alone started to feel stupid. Of course, he couldn’t go back to the taproom and listen to Bofur’s stories; but there was his new colleague upstairs! The poor dwarf was probably feeling lonely; it was his first night on a strange island. It was just collegial to check up on him, make sure he had settled in all right.

Determined, Kíli pushed himself off the ground and stumbled towards the narrow staircase leading up to the guestrooms. It loomed before him, steep and dark. He took a swig from his flask before braving it.

He celebrated on the top by emptying the flask. A man needed all the alcohol he could get to face the cheesy 80’s décor of the place; Dwalin had redecorated at the height of a craze for an ill-advised fusion of neon colour and ancient dwarvish style.

Time to face the jackeen.  Dwalin had told him earlier in the evening that they had given the temporary Garda room 4 “a lucky number!”

Slightly swaying, Kíli hesitated for a while before knocking. His drunkenness made him bold, though, and he tried to discipline his messy hair by combing them with his fingers. Then, he took a deep breath and rattled his fingertips on the wooden panel.

Fíli immediately opened the door, pulling his cardigan over his tank top.

“Hi?”

Kíli put on his most winning lopsided smile.

“Come  on down for a drink.”

“I’ve work tomorrow.”

Fíli’s expression and his flat voice added pointedly: “ As do you .”

It made Kíli laugh.

“You … Youkno-ow tha’doesn’t ... doesn’t matter.  It alway-ys … Nobody’s … body’s … checkingup onya. It doesn’t … it doesn’t maatter around heere.”

He was having surprising difficulties putting his words together. The blond dwarf crossed his arms in front of his impressive chest.

“You’re drunk.”

“No-o.” Kíli straightened and kept his voice steady. “No.”

He made his best puppy dog eyes, but Fíli’s stony expression did not falter.

“Is that right?”  The blond guard smirked when Kíli laughed awkwardly. “Say the alphabet backwards for me.”

“Em.” Kíli paused. That man couldn’t be serious. But no, there was an expectant expression in those damned eyes now. “Zed? ....” What came before Z again? Y? Or X? Or was it W? He pulled his lips into his most winsome smile. “Et cetera.”

Fíli just shook his head.

“I hope you’re not driving.”

Kíli laughed. “No, I’m taking my-y baattle ram.”

He jumped up and down as if he was on the hobby ram he had as a child going “yeehaaa”.

Fíli remained impassive.

“You’re going to ride a ram while intoxicated?”

It had to be a joke. Surely Fíli had figured out that there were not, in fact, battle rams on Erebor island.

“Yeah? So? The ram’s’sober!”

Fíli’s laugh was devoid of humour and full of disdain.

“Well, that’s great.”

“What?”

“It’s brilliant that you’re in charge here.”

Kíli squinted, his mind sobering up for a fraction of a second. Long enough to remember that this was his punctilious stick of a colleague from Dublin. The one without any sense of humour. But who was nevertheless his colleague. And gorgeous.

“Em, listen, em …” He leant against the doorframe. His legs started to wobble, not a good look to impress, but he managed to keep his voice clearer. “I think we got off on the wrong foot …”

And talking about feet, he lost control of his legs and staggered into the room, colliding with a small table next to the door. Which idiot put tables next to doors?

For such an orderly dwarf, Fíli had a surprising amount of knick-knack on the table, which now had clattered onto the floor.

Kíli knelt down to help put back an assortment of beads, hair ties, a lip balm and, curiously enough, an orange anti-stress ball.

“It’s fine,” Fíli hissed, yanking a hair tie from Kíli’s hands.

Thoroughly embarrassed, Kíli got back onto his feet. That was harder than expected.

“Sorry… Last drink went straight to me head,” he explained.

Fíli shook his head.

“Do you get this drunk every night?”

“You know …” Even he was aware of how slurred his voice was now. “Just … just high days and holidays.”

His laugh was dejected, as he had to lean back onto the doorframe, unable to keep himself up any longer.

Fíli clapped his hands.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

“Now you’re talking …” Even as he attempted to shift into a sensual pose, Kíli noticed the black curtains descending onto his vision.

*~*

Meanwhile, the rain had finally stopped, and Bofur had cycled home. Muttering to himself about idiot landlords, Gardai and everybody else who didn’t believe he had caught a monster. He would bring it to the pub the next evening, so he would.

As he walked into his house, he took a deep breath and a sip from his flask of homebrewed poitín. Stronger stuff could not be found on the island. Before going to bed, he would take a last look at his little guest.

Something seemed off when he entered his bathroom. A bit confused he bent over the tub. The pot was broken. The tub was empty.

Chapter Text

The morning sun was shining, and its soft light gave the inside of Dwalin’s tavern a warm and welcoming atmosphere. Fíli felt refreshed after a good’s night sleep and a hearty breakfast, served by Nori. He had not quite managed to eat it all. He had finished his small bowl of porridge and had copious amounts of dry soda bread, kippers, sausages and beans, grilled tomato and black pudding fried in too much butter, but there was no way he could eat everything put on the table for him.

Nori sidled in, just as he emptied the last of the tea.

“Are you finished, love?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion as she viewed the remains.

“Was it all right?”

“Yes, splendid, thank you. Just a bit too much for me.”

Nori laughed. “That’s half of what my Dwalin has every morning and a proper paunch he has.”

She winked. “We’ll make a proper dwarf out of ya yet, just you see.”

Fíli was well aware that he was a bit skinny for his age, so he desperately tried to change the subject.

“Looks like it should be nice out.” Fíli squinted and looked outside. The island did look friendly in the sunshine. But Nori shook her head.

“There’s a storm coming.”

“Really? Are the gulls flying low or something?”

Nori smirked. “It was on the telly.” She gestured at the tube tv behind her.

Fíli gave an embarrassed little laugh. Of course. The telly.

“You’re not married, Fíli, are you?”

Where did that come from? “No?” Fíli admitted, warily.

Nori winked. “Like O’Shea. Well, he’s bereft.”

She shook her head and clucked her tongue sadly.

“He lost his partner?”

That would explain some of the other Garda’s behaviour. Fíli had arrested many people for being drunk and disorderly, who turned out to be recent widowers.

“He wouldn’t tell you. No. He’s a very private fella, that one. With a few drinks and a nod, it might come out, but not normally, no. He could be a cop anywhere, you know, he doesn’t need to stay on this island really … he just likes to be around those he loves, you see?”

Fíli smiled politely. In Dublin, Kíli would have been fired on his first day of the job. Gardai drunk on while on duty might be normal on a remote island, but anywhere else? Nori was undaunted.

“Now, if you need at any stage a bigger bed, I’ve a lovely room. The honeymoon suite we usually call it. Up the back of the hotel. It’s very quiet.”

Completely flabbergasted, Fíli could just stare at her for a moment. “No, thank you.”

There was nothing that could deter Nori, though. She pointed up to the guestrooms.

“We’ve much bigger beds if there’s two instead one, you know. Because next week, we’ve …”

“Ok.” But Fíli was ignored.

“... a big stag party from Dublin, so if you want a bigger room, now’s the time to book it.”

The woman winked at Fíli, who desperately tried not to flush. He had to get away from that terrible matchmaker. Now. The guard hastily wiped his mouth, grabbed his jacket and got up.

“Ok, thank you. Goodbye.”

“All right, Fíli. Have a great day.”

She gave him a cheery wave.

“Thank you.”

Fíli went out as quickly as he could with a modicum of dignity preserved.

*~*

The weather was still sunny when Fíli pulled the Gardai car into the station’s yard. He jumped out of the car. This was really feeling like a holiday. The clean, briny air was doing him good.

He walked straight to the single holding cell at the back of the station.

“Morning!” he sang, as he opens the door.

Kíli just groaned in response. He was laying on the pallet and tried to lift himself up on his elbows to face him, but the light (subdued as it was inside) was still too bright, and he squinted his eyes.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Fíli remarked with a bright smile. “Close to the beach. All mod cons.”

A crease appeared between Kíli’s eyebrows, and his hands touched the bed questioningly. He finally caught on to where he was and rolled over on his side.

“What happened?”

“Section 4.1 of the public order act.” Fíli put on his most professional tone and expression. “It is an offense for any person to be present in any public place while intoxicated to such an extent as would give rise to reasonable apprehension.”

Staring at him in disbelief, Kíli sat up.

“You arrested me?”

Fíli allowed himself to deflate a little and shook his head. “You passed out before I could find your house.”

The floor seemed fascinating all of the sudden to both of them. Before it could get more embarrassing, the phone on the wall rang. Fíli let out a breath of relief before he answered it.

“Garda Nolan!”

*~*

Bofur had been lucky the other guard had taken his call. If it had been Kíli, he wouldn’t have been believed.

The two Gardai and he were on foot, on their way to Bilbo’s laboratory. Bofur couldn’t contain his excitement.

“But, I get a reward for discovering it? A finder’s fee?” It was about the third time he was asking the same question, and it was getting on Kíli’s nerves.

“Bofur, I already told you, we’ll discuss it later.”

“But I get something, right?”

Kíli clenched his jaw and ignored the fisherman. He didn’t want to be here. Not at all.

Firstly, today was Sunday, and he wasn’t supposed to work. But Fíli had taken Bofur’s call, and he just couldn’t leave him alone with Bilbo.

Secondly, his whole body hurt after a night spent on a cell’s hard bunk.

Lastly, he knew his uncle would be there. Waking up in the station’s drunk tank had been enough already; he didn’t need to bear with the scientist’s remarks about his state, especially in front of his new and irreproachable colleague.

Fíli was silently tagging along, thinking about the last night’s fiasco and his drunken teammate’s pathetic flirt attempt before passing out on the landing. Dwalin and Nori were already gone, so Fíli had had to drag Kíli down the stairs all by himself, manhandle him into the car, and endure his nonsensical mumblings until he snored.

Fíli was aware of the humiliation Kíli had felt this morning, but what else could he do? The station’s drunk tank was the only safe place he knew. Nori’s words were also haunting him. Her unrefined way of trying to pair him up with her widowed friend was utterly revolting, yet Fíli couldn’t help but think about Kíli’s grief. Though he disapproved of his propensity to drink, he felt him.

*~*

Being the official authority of the island, Kíli didn’t bother knocking and entered the lab, his two companions in tow.

Fíli observed his surroundings with astonishment. How could anyone call these premises a laboratory? The place looked more like a converted warehouse.

It was immense, and a whole portion of the room was cluttered with old rowing boats, lobster pots, and fishnets. Near the main door, there was a collection of fish tanks and old shelves, and a small desk without even a computer. A tiny electric heater was barely managing to warm the chilly area.

Somewhere amidst this bric-a-brac, Bilbo was leaning over an examination table. He was wearing a white coat, silicon gloves, and a facemask. The Hobbit was so occupied with his task, he didn’t bother turning around to greet his visitors.

Bofur hastened to the table, impatient as a dwarfling. His discovery was so extraordinary, he’d get a huge reward for sure. His goofy grin faltered a bit when Kíli let out a disgusted “Eurgh!” at the sight of his precious catch.

Flopped on the table was something that seemed to be all dark-blue tentacles, covered by slimy yellowish netting and a pink gap in the middle, which had to be its mouth. Teeth that looked like mangled bone fragments were stuck in the squishy flesh, forming a perfect circle. And it reeked. The creature’s foul stench reminded Fíli of silt and rotten eggs, plus another smell he couldn’t define.

Irritated by Kíli’s childish remark, Bilbo sarcastically asked: “Oh. Is that your professional opinion?”

The Hobbit’s British accent coupled with disdain made Kíli want to punch him in the face.

“An Akhlat,” said Bofur proudly, eliciting an annoyed huff from Bilbo.

“A what?” asked Kíli, a bit lost. His knowledge of his ancestor’s language was too superficial to allow him to understand. A fugitive memory of him locked away in his room, punished by Thorin until he could recite all the names of his family tree from Durin the Deathless to Thrain II, painfully resurfaced.

“An Akhlat, a “Grasper,” “ explained Bofur, with a smug smile.

“I’ve told you, Bofur, I’m not calling it that. It needs a name that defines its genus,” said the scientist.

“I discovered it. I get to name it,” replied the stubborn fisherman.

The sound of the main door of the lab being slammed made them all startle.  

Thorin strode into the make-shift laboratory as if he owned the place. Well, he actually owned it. The premises were his, and the Research Division of the University regularly subsidised the works of his former student, Bilbo Baggins-Smith. Marine ecology was the trend, apparently.

Fíli got instantly impressed by Thorin’s imposing presence and unconsciously straightened his back.

“Good morning, professor Oakenshield,” respectfully said the Hobbit before bowing shortly to his former mentor.

“Good morning, Bilbo,” replied Thorin. Then, he addressed his nephew with a rather cold “Ah, you’re here as well, Kíli.”

The guard mumbled something sounding like “Uncle” with a brief nod and held his head down for a short moment before introducing his teammate.

“Uncle, let me acquaint you with Garda Fíli Nolan. He’s here to assist me during serjeant Kenefick’s holiday. Garda Nolan, this is Thorin Oakenshield, mayor of Erebor and also Marine Science professor at Durin’s University  Dublin. He owns this laboratory.”

Kíli’s unusual stern tone didn’t escape Fíli, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he shook Thorin’s hand firmly and offered his most polite smile.

Everybody was eying the motionless creature in silence when Fíli eventually asked: “So, what is this thing?”

Bilbo, whose look was locked on Thorin, seemed to wake up from a trance. Surprisingly, he admitted: “I haven’t a clue. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It is a completely foreign species. I can’t even begin to originate or class it.”

“An Akhlat,” emphasized Bofur, and Bilbo rolled his eyes.

Foreseeing an umpteenth bickering between the Hobbit and the fisherman, Fíli went straight to the point and asked Bofur “It attacked you?”

“Stuck on the ceiling it was.  Nearly ripped me throat out!”

Thorin cast Bofur a dubious look. Natives from Erebor knew sea creatures well. Merrows and such were quite common, but once the fisherman had sworn to Mahal in front of the whole tavern he had crossed the path of the Enbarr of Mannanán, so one could easily doubt his word. However, even Thorin, with his vast experience of growing up on an island and studying and researching marine life for all his adult life had never seen something like this before.

The stench was so disgusting Fíli repressed his gagging when he saw Kíli prodding around what looked like the mouth of the monster.

“It’s dead, right?” asked Kíli.

“I’m not actually sure.”

The guard hastily took a step back and wiped his hand on his trousers. “You what?”

“Basic tests so far have shown nothing usual or normal, it is beyond mystifying. I really can’t be sure without opening it up.”

“You haven’t already?” Before Thorin had ended his sentence, Bofur had risen his walking stick and whacked the monster with it.

Kíli and Bilbo jumped back in surprise, while Fíli and Thorin managed to keep their posture.

Kíli smirked, and Bofur smugly informed them: “It’s dead all right.”

Bilbo scolded the dwarf. “Would you stop doing that? Is it any wonder it bit you?”

“It bit Bofur?” Thorin turned to the fisherman, frowning.

“Oh, aye, it …”

Foreseeing another of Bofur’s rambling speeches, Fíli cut him short.

“What’s that in his mouth?”

Bilbo chuckled. “That …” And he made a dramatic little pause. “That is its tongue.”

The biologist took his forceps and gently started pulling, whispering “Check it out!”

Only Thorin remained stoic as Bilbo revealed the pointy tip of a long strange strip of white, slimy tissue. Bofur chuckled.

“Spits like a frog and strangles you. Whippet fast and sharp.”

Kíli and Fíli could both believe that. It looked unpleasant, to say the least. Bilbo nodded.

“So I’m guessing this creature bleeds its prey like a leech, consuming the blood like some sort of Vampyroteuthis.”

Kíli blinked. “Vampyro what?”

“Vampyroteuthis,” Thorin supplied before Bilbo could stop him. “Commonly called ‘vampire squid.’ They are small, deep-sea cephalopods found throughout temperate and tropical oceans. And they don’t look like this at all. I had expected a better analysis from a former student of mine.”

Bilbo huffed. “I said ‘some sort of,' I didn’t classify it as Vampyroteuthis.” He released the tongue and put the forceps down forcefully. “This is something entirely different. Something alien.”

When he saw the astonished looks on the three laymen and Thorin opening his mouth to rebuff him, he added hastily. “In that it is undocumented. Not from …” He chuckled and pointed upwards.

“Very helpful,” Thorin grumbled, just as Bofur rubbed his hands.

“It’s gotta be worth a fortune!”

“But here … here’s the thing ...” Bilbo went through his array of tools, creating a background of clanging metal, before he gave a little triumphant shout and turned around again. “When I tried to, ah, clean some dirt off it …”

Bofur grinned, jabbing his elbow in Fíli’s side. “I stood on it a few times.”

As much as he tried to get his nose as far away from the other dwarf, Fíli was impressed. It needed cold blood to be able to fight against this hideous creature. Whatever it was, this was not what he had expected to encounter during his holidays.

Bilbo’s latex gloved hands rubbed a little moist sponge over a tentacle, removing dried slime. It began to sparkle and made a gurgling noise.

Kíli frowned. “What does that mean?”

Fíli made a note that Kíli’s voice went deeper when he appeared to be frightened.

Bilbo smiled:  “All this creature needs to survive is blood and water.”

“Can I put this on eBay, what do you think?” All this scientific nonsense was of little interest to a pragmatic fisherman. Kíli chuckled but sobered when he caught Thorin’s furious eyes.

“You’re not putting this on eBay,” Bilbo and Thorin chided Bofur in unison. The Hobbit glared at Thorin and then at Bofur again.

“You are so lucky she didn’t kill you, Bofur.”

“She?” Thorin looked back at the thing on the table.

“Yeah, it’s a female from what …” Bilbo stopped himself. “It’s a female.”

He ignored Kíli, who, not so subtly, cleaned the slime covering his hands on Bilbo’s lab coat after touching the creature.

Bofur poked his catch again. “How can you tell?”

“Well, it got no testicles. And ..” he raised a teacherly finger but was interrupted by Kíli.

“And it takes a scientist to realise that.”

Thorin smiled grimly. “It’s not like you could tell, Kíli. How would you know it’s got no testicles?”

“I ….” Kíli blinked. He had not expected to be interrogated about the genitalia of squid-like creatures, although with his uncle, an interrogation should always be expected.

Luckily, Bilbo saved him. The Hobbit emerged from under the table, putting a tray on it.

The clang got their attention. An egg. That huge yellowish globe could only be an egg. It was nearly as big as the body of the thing, though.

“She was pregnant,” Bilbo announced.

He had already cut open the egg and lifted the top up now, to reveal baby tentacles in slime. It smelled rotten, and even Fíli had to take several steps back.

“It’s disgusting,” he burst out and Kíli, for once, could only agree with his colleague.

Thorin looked from the egg to the creature.

“That big egg came out of that specimen?” His tone made it evident that he did not quite believe his former student and Bilbo bristled.

“Ilúvatar’s work is mysterious.”

“Religion,” Thorin scoffed. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Fíli felt that this was going beyond the scope of police work. If he was honest with himself, he just wanted to get away from that thing.

“I believe it is best if Kíli and I take Bofur’s statement outside and leave you two to your science,” he announced.

Bilbo didn’t seem too happy about that, but Thorin nodded magnanimously.

“That is sensible. Kíli can learn something from your presence, Garda Nolan.”

Trying very hard not to preen, Fíli followed the other two dwarves. Kíli was already herding Bofur out, who was going on about eBay and finder’s fees again. While it was great to have the mayor’s approval (of however small an island), he did feel a bit sorry for Kíli. Thorin really shouldn’t make such comments in public; that was unprofessional.

*~*

Bofur had nothing much to add to what he had already told them in the lab. He had caught the thing the previous afternoon, Dior was his witness, and instead of notifying anyone that he had captured a strange creature, he had put it in his bathtub.

Kíli hadn’t believed him in the pub - Bofur tried to get Fíli to say that Kíli had been in the wrong, but Fíli, for once, was in total sympathy. When he came home, the creature had escaped the tub, was stuck on the ceiling, its tongue had lashed out at him, starting to suck and then the creature had crashed down on him until it had just gone limp after a fierce struggle.

It was unlikely that they would be further involved. New, potentially dangerous species were not the division of the local police. Still, he had quite a disgusting story to tell in Dublin now, so Fíli was in a good mood as they raced along the coast.

It was interrupted by Kíli. “Do you think that Akhlat thing could have anything to do with those dead whales?”

All right, maybe it wasn’t their division, but Fíli had always liked to speculate.

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s just a hunch, you know.”

“You get hunches now?”

“Well, I watch a lot of Columbo.”

Fíli was just about to give that the acid reply it deserved when Kíli stopped the car. He recognized where they were. The beach where the whales had been. It was empty now, though, he failed to see what they could do here now. All evidence was gone.

“Why have we stopped?”

“That’s Elladan’s car down there!”

*~*

Kíli had a bad feeling as he walked around Elladan’s car. There was no sign of the elf.

“ELLADAN!”

His voice echoed from the cliffs, rivalling the seagulls’ cries. But there was no answer. Even Fíli’s brow was creased now.

“Where could he be?”

Kíli looked inside the car again, spotting the keys in the ignition. The reproduction of a leaf of Lórien, a small reminder of once glorious times, dangling from it.

“Nowhere without his keys.” Or his lucky charm.

The dwarf looked around. Yes. How could he have forgotten? Dior and Nimloth lived right at this beach. He looked at the blond, who seemed inclined to inspect the shore.

“Do you believe in coincidences?”

Fíli took a few steps back towards him.

“Not really, no.”

“Neither do I.” With determination, he reached inside the car and took the keys. “Come on.”

It was a short walk up to the house. Fíli was still wondering what they were looking for. Whoever lived here didn’t answer the door, even after they rang repeatedly and banged on the door it.

Kíli peered inside. “All the lights are on.”

“Hmm …” Before Fíli could answer, Kíli turned around and suddenly seemed to inspect Fíli.

“So how come you’re not in uniform?”

“Em …. It’s Sunday?” He really hadn’t expected to work beyond getting his colleague out of the holding cell.

“Ah.”

“And neither are you.”

That wasn’t too smart. He had locked up Kíli in his civilian clothes the night before (and good thing Kíli hadn’t been getting drunk while in uniform) and from the police station they had directly gone to see Bilbo and Bofur.

Instead of making fun, Kíli just smiled brilliantly. “It suits you. You look nice.”

“I …” Fíli bit his lower lip. He could return the compliment, he would have, had it not been for that stupid flirting attempt.

“The Hobbit is a nice fella, isn’t he?” he said instead.

“Oh …” Kíli scrunched his face up in an imitation of Bilbo. “Positively smashing.”

His English accent was funny, and Fíli had to bite back a smile.

“He’s a proper gentleman. And such polite company.”

“Yeah …” Kíli’s tone let on that he had understood the implication.

They both moved on, peering through the other windows, but couldn’t detect any signs of life.

“He’s a bit like you,” Kíli suddenly continued their conversation. “Married to his job.”

“I’m not …” Fíli took a deep breath. “I take pride in my work. Unlike you.”

His glare was wasted, Kíli had turned away.

“Shhh. I’m working.”

Fíli’s foot caught on something on the ground. He bent down and picked up a broken tile.

“You’re looking in the wrong place, Columbo.”

They found a ladder in the shed. Kíli was happy to let Fíli be the one to climb up. It gave him a first-class view of one of the finest arses he’d ever seen.

“Hold it steady!” Fíli admonished him.

“You’re something else, you know that? Should have joined the army, not the guards.”

He heard Fíli laughing, as the other guard had just reached the roof.

“Stop talking to yourself.”

“I’m not talking to meself. I’m talking to you.”

“Uh-uh. - There’s something up here!”

“Could you be a bit more specific?”

As Fíli had vanished on the roof, Kíli discreetly reached into the pocket of his shirt to retrieve his flask. There wasn’t much left after he nearly emptied it to get the courage to talk to Fíli the night before, but it was better than nothing.

“A shirt! A plaid shirt! Poking out of the chimney.”

“That’s … odd.” Kíli peered up even though he had no chance to see anything that was going on there.

“Ugh! It stinks like that thing! … And it’s stuck on something.”

There was silence, then a loud scream of “Watch out!”

Something heavy landed on Kíli’s head with a thud.

“Mahal! Me nose! What …”

“It’s a head!”

Before the words registered, Kíli looked to the ground. Into the lifeless eyes of Elladan. His severed head beneath a garden chair.

“Are you all right? O’Shea! Kíli?!”

Fíli’s words washed over him.

Chapter Text

Fíli had climbed down the roof as fast as he could. He had found Kíli collapsed on the ground, both hands pressed against his face.

“O’Shea! Are you all right?” No response. “Kíli? Kíli, please, let me take a look at your nose. It’s bleeding.”

The evocation of blood lit up something in the other guard’s mind. His blank glance met a pair of concerned blue eyes, and he came back to reality.

“It’s… It’s Elladan… It’s his... head!” Kíli stammered.

“Shhh, you’re in shock. Let me see your nose.”

“It’s his head! Elladan is dead!”

Fíli winced when Kíli grabbed his jacket with his bloody hands. Those stains would be hard to wash.

“Stop this now, officer!” Fíli firmly shook his colleague’s shoulders, ready to slap his face if necessary. Struck by the harsh order, Kíli stopped screaming and loosened his grip on Fíli’s jacket.

“Ok, look at me, calm down now. Focus on my eyes, O’Shea. That’s it. Now, breathe. Slowly. There. That’s good. Can I take a look at your nose, now?”

Fíli’s soothing words helped Kíli to calm down. He sat up and let his teammate examine him.

“You’re lucky; it doesn’t look broken. There, press this tissue against your nose until the bleeding stops.”

Kíli complied in silence, carefully avoiding to look at his friend’s head, lying on the ground and looking at him with void eyes.

“O’Shea? O’Shea?” Fíli’s voice seemed so far away; Kíli had to focus to hear it. “We need to bring this head to Dr. Gleeson. I’m going to the car and fetch a cloth, and I come back. Can you stay on your own?”

Kíli mumbled a “yes” and Fíli was off to their car. Still seated on the ground, he thought “I wasn’t even supposed to work today.”

*~*

Dr. Oin Gleeson had not been happy to be disturbed by the guards early on Sunday morning. He had just been about to go for a walk with Minty, when the two young dwarves practically hauled him back to his surgery, right next to his living room.

Kíli closed the curtains much to the doctor’s consternation and astonishment, while Fíli placed something wrapped in a blood-stained cloth on his desk.

Before he could protest again, Fíli unwrapped it, and Oín recoiled. Elladan’s head stared at him as if he accused him from beyond.

Kíli leant towards him, for once deadly serious.

“What killed him, Oín?”

“The fact that he’s just a head.” Oín pried his eyes away from the horror on his desk. “You bring me someone with a head cold or a headache, and I could do something. But you bring me just a head, and you’re taking the piss.”

“Doctor, we need to know.” Fíli fixed the doctor with a hard stare.

“He was mauled by some sort of animal.” When he saw that the two Gardai were not satisfied, he shrugged. “I don’t know. A Balrog?”

“A Balrog.” Kíli didn’t know if he should laugh or weep.

Fíli looked exasperated. “A Balrog. A creature from legend. We can’t put that in the report.”

But he looked surreptitiously at Kíli. That thing they saw earlier, that Akhlat, was certainly not a Balrog. But it had shaken some of Fíli’s certainty.

“I’m a country doctor, for Mahal’s sake,” Oín gruffly informed that young upstart from the city. “Where am I going to run across stuff like this?”

A sudden gust of air made them all start. The door was thrown open and revealed an excited hatted dwarf.

“Wait till you see it! By my beard, you’re not going to believe it!”

“Mahal!” Kíli was the first one to steady himself. “Bofur, was is it?”

*~*

It was only noon, and this Sunday was already too full of gruesome events to be taken lightly. Kíli and Fíli had decided to go back to the station to put on their uniforms for they couldn’t stay in their civilian clothes anymore. Whether they liked it or not, they were on duty for the day. Just putting on the uniform helped Fíli to feel back in control of the situation. He was a guard. He could handle whatever challenge was thrown at him.

Thinking Fíli wasn’t looking, Kíli had refilled his whisky flask from the liquor stash he kept in his locker for emergencies. After the shock caused by their latest discovery, the guard was still deeply shaken, and he needed the comfort of his flask more than ever.

One hour later, the two Gardai were standing in Bofur’s backyard, next to his bathtub. They all looked at the house in front of them.

The bathroom’s wall was completely demolished. As the excited fisherman was talking, Fíli was conscientiously taking notes, watching Kíli from time to time to make sure he could believe Bofur’s wild tale.

“How am I supposed to wash meself?” asked Bofur. Fíli raised a suspicious eyebrow. The ancient brownish crust coating the tub was speaking for itself.

“Use your sink,” the blond dwarf replied irritably, stashing his notebook. He looked at Kíli, who was stomping back to the car, shouting at Bofur to put the kettle on.

Ten minutes later they were all standing around the fisherman’s rickety kitchen table, tea in hand.  Bofur had poured a healthy dose of Poitin in Kíli’s and his; Fíli narrowly avoided the addition.

Kili had spread a map of Erebor on the table.

“Ok. Here’s where Elladan’s car was abandoned, here’s Dior and Nimloth’s house, here’s where the whales washed up, and we’re here. I was hoping it would show some sort of pattern.”

“It’s the letter. The letter zed,” Bofur supplied helpfully. While Kíli’s mind wandered to Zorro, Fíli thought of something more practical.

“Did you show that thing to anyone before we saw it?”

“Well, Dior got a look at it before I brought it down. It spat on him.”

When he saw the two young Gardai staring at him, he added: “Why?”

Fíli looked to Kíli in silent understanding.

“We think there might be another of those things. At least one, anyway.”

“Are you serious?”

When Kíli saw the glimmer in the other dwarf’s eye, he rolled his eyes. “The one you caught can’t have fertilized the eggs itself. There must be a male out there. Yes, he’d be worth a fuckton on eBay, Bofur.  But he’s big enough and strong enough to knock a hole in your bathroom wall. Let’s worry about that first.”

Bofur’s house was old, but like all homes on this windswept island, it had been built solid enough to last for several long-lived generations through harsh storms.

Fíli peered from the kitchen to the bathroom. A draft could be felt from there.

“The hobbit said it needs water, didn’t he?”

“He says a lot of things.” Kíli gritted his teeth. Snotty little bugger that scientist.

“Mostly bollocks,” Bofur added. Fíli felt that the other dwarves didn’t like the poor scientist much. He was about to defend Bilbo but focused.

“Whatever. But if it needs water to survive, how could it be moving about on dry land?”

Bofur shrugged. “It was raining.” And then, adding when the two dense Gardai didn’t follow him. “There’s no such thing as dry land when it’s pissing down.”

“There’s a storm coming.” Fíli felt himself freeze a little. “Tonight.”

Kíli rubbed his temples. “All right. All of this …” his fingers drew a vague circle around the area on the map, “must be its territory. Which means … it must be somewhere around there with access to water.”

Shrugging as if it had been obvious from the start, Bofur supplied:

“Narag Tharr caves. I caught the female around there.”

Fíli nearly smacked himself with his notebook. Of course, he had asked that question, routinely, and wrote it down. But as both Kíli and he had assumed that they wouldn’t be involved beyond handing in a report, they had failed to take that into consideration.

*~*

It had pained Kíli, but Fíli was right: they needed Bilbo and Thorin for their expedition to the caves. Determined to claim his precious catch as his and his only, Bofur had insisted on coming with them as well.

Equipped with powerful electric torches, the four dwarves, and the hobbit were cautiously walking among the rocks of the West Beach towards Narag Tharr caves, Fíli and Kíli closing the group a little behind the others.

They could hear Bofur ranting about global warming, vaguely approved by Bilbo.

As usual, Thorin was walking in silence, his hands behind his back and brooding over thoughts only known by himself. However, he paid attention to the fisherman’s rant when it came to the sudden disappearance of the Merrows. The mermaids had always been abundant in the Misty Sound, and some of them had taken up residence near the caves. Used to Erebor’s people, the creatures weren’t feral anymore. If only they could approach some, they could learn useful things.

Feeling his hands slightly shaking, Kíli took a quick swig from his flask when he thought Fíli wouldn’t notice. Unfortunately for him, nothing could escape the other guard, and when his eyes met Kíli’s he couldn’t refrain a half concerned half irritated look.

“What?”, asked Kíli, on the defensive. Fíli stiffened a bit.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me that look.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I-feel-sorry-for-you’ look.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“No. I gave you the ‘I-feel-embarrassed-for-you’ look. Big difference.”

Though said very calmly, the guard’s harsh words pierced right through Kíli’s heart. He realised that Fíli’s opinion mattered to him, more than he would have thought, and he felt ashamed. Coming out of the blue, a vision of a flirting Bilbo appeared in his mind and a sudden whiff of jealousy seized him. He couldn’t let Fíli’s disdain unanswered, so he tried to defend himself.

“So that’s worse. Listen, I’m no dandy fop Ph.D. Boggins type.”  Fíli laughed drily to these words.

“What’s the hobbit got to do with your raging alcoholism?”

“I’m not a raging alcoho…” Kíli interrupted himself and huffed “You’re some character, you know that? A real character. I’m a social drinker.”

“Mm-hm, I’m sure you are.”

Willing to end this conversation, Fíli hurried to catch up with the others, leaving Kíli behind.

The small group gathered in front of a huge crevice formed in the rocky wall of a cliff. The infamous Narag Tharr caves. Kíli shivered as a tragic memory resurfaced. Many years ago, one of his classmates had drowned there, caught by the flood tide.

As if he had read through Kíli’s mind, Bofur waggled his walking stick toward the caves and warned the troop: “Now, look, the tide’s coming in, so another hour and this place will be under water, so be careful now!”

After a quick glance to Fíli, Kíli put his cap on and required everybody’s attention. This was police business, so he and Fíli would lead the exploration. The scientists nodded in agreement and checked their torches one last time.

Bofur didn’t need any persuasion when Kíli told him to wait for them on the beach. The fisherman watched the cave swallow the dwarves and the hobbit with a worried look on his face.

*~*

Obscurity surrounded them all as soon as they entered the narrow space of the cave, and they had to blink a few times to accommodate their vision to the ambient darkness. All they could hear was the wind gushing through the passage and the regular sound of the surf.

Walking in single file, the group moved forward slowly, the light of their torches illuminating the black rocky walls and casting dreadful shadows.

At length, the narrow way broadened so they all could stand side by side and catch sight of the way out, leading to another part of the beach.

Feeling nervous, Kíli started to whistle a tune but got rapidly shushed by Fíli, who was trying to focus on looking for significant clues.

Bilbo and Thorin had ventured on their own, the faint echoes of their footsteps and the light of their torch bouncing on the dark walls of the cave.

Fíli was starting to think the group shouldn’t be separated when the light of his torch caught something on the ground. The guard waved at Kíli before kneeling down to inspect his find. It was an orange weatherproof coat with an elvish marine blazon on it. One could read “Vingiló” but the end of the word had been ripped with a part of the coat.

“Are we missing some fishermen?” whispered Fíli. Kíli crouched down beside him and took a closer look.

“Mahal almighty… , “ he breathed with a dull voice “It’s Eärendil’s coat.”

Fíli cast him a questioning look.

“He, his ship and his crew were presumed lost at sea. Last time someone saw them alive was last Friday, just before you arrived.”

“Did you know them?” asked Fíli.

“Yes. For a long time. Eärendil’s sons, Elrond and Elros, were my friends back in the days when I was...” but he never finished his sentence.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Kíli.”

The guard couldn’t help but feel compassionate towards his colleague. He had lost so many people he loved. With a sympathetic smile, Fíli put a hand on Kíli’s shoulder and squeezed it briefly before getting up.

Seeing that Kíli was still lost in the contemplation of  Eärendil’s coat, he cleared his throat to get his attention.

“Get up. We should find the others.”

*~*

Tired of waiting on his own on the beach, Bofur became restless. He started pacing in front of the cave, trying to peer inside but he couldn’t see a thing beyond two feet.

This wait was excruciating! Bofur had to busy himself with something, or he would become mad. A good swig of his precious poitin was what he needed. Alas, he had forgotten the damned bottle in the car! Grabbing his walking stick, he left to retrieve his liquor.

He was halfway to the car when suddenly, something in the sand caught his eyes. Partially buried in the sand among the rocks and the algae, there were six eggs, just like the one they had seen earlier in Bilbo’s lab. If he hid them better, he could sell them for a good price… Oh, yes, he could.

Carefully, Bofur probed one of the small globes with his walking stick before crouching down to have a better look. Driven by curiosity, he unearthed one of the eggs.

He was about to hold it in his hands when he felt something moving inside the thick translucent shell.

He startled so hard he fell on his butt, screaming “Mighty Mahal!”. Still on the sand, the thing inside the egg squirmed and emitted a squelching sound.

This was too much for Bofur. Valuable or not, those things were threatening and dangerous. The dwarf hastily got back on his feet, grabbed his stick and went back to the cave, quite pale all of a sudden.

*~*

After a short moment, Kíli recomposed himself and tried to locate Bilbo and his uncle. Fíli and him swept the light of their torches over the rocks, but the scientists were out of sight.

“I knew we shouldn’t have split the group” grumbled Fíli.

“They can’t be that far, can they?” replied Kíli before shouting “Hello!”

Fíli jumped like a startled cat and hissed “Mahal! My heart! What are you doing??”

“I’m calling them. Well, do you know a better way? Hmm? Hello!”

Fíli winced.

Something splashed behind their back. Something big.

The two Gardai turned around slowly.

A quivering wall of dark flesh and tentacles was behind them. Rising slowly. They traced it with their torches. It filled the entire cave. Just tentacles. Tentacles and a monstrous mouth.

Fíli was the first to move.

“RUN!”

“Move! Quickly!”

They stumbled into each other as they turned around. Slipping on the algae. The sound of the tide coming in interweaved with the splashes of the tentacles.

The only thing saving them was the narrowness of the passage. The monster’s bulk slowed it down.

Then the path was barely wide enough for Fíli to press through. He could see the light through the narrow entryway. Beckoning him.

“Fíli! Hurry!” Kíli had run into him.”Hurry!”

“I’m trying.” Fíli’s shoulders chafed against the rough rock.

“Would you move your arse?”

He tried to push the other dwarf, reaching a bit too low.

“Let go of my arse!” Fíli retorted, distracted from the situation.

But with a hearty shove, Fíli stumbled out into the open, quickly followed by Kíli. His slender built was an advantage for once.

Behind them, they could hear the monster growling, its tentacles emitting suction sounds as they gripped on the cave’s walls.

“Go!” They both shouted at once, tripping over the sand before they found their bearings again, running away from the cave. Fíli stumbled, and Kíli took his hand without thinking, pulling him further along.

“You ok?”

They both stopped for a moment, looking back.

“The size of that thing!” Fíli was shaking.

“It’s okay; it can’t get through the gap.” Kíli let out a sigh of relief, seeing the monster stuck. Then he fell on his backside, struck by something on his head. The monster’s tongue had lashed out and taken off his hat.

“Mahal!”

“Leg it!”

It was Fíli now who took Kíli’s hand and dragged him along.

“Thorin!” Kíli remembered his uncle was still in that cave. “THORIN!!!!!!”

“Oh shit.” Fíli stopped as well, desperately scanning the area. Where were the scientists? Had they heard the noise and deduced what happened? How would they get out?

Bofur was running towards them, but Fíli made frantic signs for him to stop, while Kíli was still shouting for his uncle.

*~*

“Do you think it’s wise to get away from the others?” asked Bilbo.

Thorin remained silent, focused on his exploration of the cave. With a sigh, the hobbit followed his former professor and they got deeper into the darkness. After groping their way along, they found signs of life. A nest made out of algae and fish bones scattered around it could only tell one thing: merrows dwelled here. But where were they?

For the first time in ages, Thorin looked at Bilbo with sheer excitement. The hobbit was glad that the partial dark hid the pink shade colouring his cheeks.

As far as he could remember, the hobbit had always been attracted to his professor.

It had been love at first sight, so to speak. Like in those cheap romance movies, he had run into Thorin on his first day at the University, thirteen years ago. The dwarf had been kind enough to lead him to his class.

Usually stern, Professor Oakenshield could become quite animated when the subject of his teaching was about the creatures populating the Irish Sea. Not the common dolphins and seals, but the more extraordinary races such as merrows.

The young hobbit student had spent years listening to his dwarf professor, in a state of perpetual awe. The dwarf was brilliant. Not good at social interactions, not much of a smiler, but brilliant.

Rapidly, Bilbo had become Thorin’s best student, and after his graduation, he had taken charge of Erebor’s Shore Sciences Laboratory. Bilbo had thought it could help him get closer to Thorin, but the dwarf had suddenly lost any interest in the hobbit. His problematic nephew was going through a rough time once again, and Thorin had focused on his family issues. After that, Thorin had less and less showed up, and Bilbo had even thought about quitting to go back to England.

But now that this exciting case had appeared, Thorin and Bilbo were working together again, and the hobbit had caught himself hoping for something to happen.

So here they were, almost alone in the dark, when they heard Kíli’s voice booming through the cave. The two scientists winced at the sudden noise. Thorin grumbled something unintelligible, and Bilbo sighed in disappointment. Why did Kíli always come in their way?

The hobbit was about to answer the Garda’s call when he saw Thorin’s eyes widen in front of him. Slowly, the dwarf switched off his torch and put a finger across his lips. Bilbo frowned at first, but Thorin seized his shoulders and made him crouch beside him.

The hobbit murmured “What’s going on?”.

“Shhhh… don’t make a sound, and stay close to me. If we’re lucky, it won’t notice us.”

Flustered by Thorin’s attitude, Bilbo complied. He was putting so much effort in hiding that he unconsciously stopped breathing for a while. His heart was pounding painfully in his ears, and suddenly, the Gardai’s panicked screams filled the dark space of the cave.

A cold sweat ran down Bilbo’s spine as he was repressing a desperate need to cry out his fear. Pressing his hands on his mouth, he let out a muffled whine.

Thorin had stayed tense and focused the whole time.

What was that gigantic beast? It had tentacles like the strange female specimen he had examined a few hours ago, but this one was immense! And it was after his nephew… Thorin inwardly pleaded Mahal to save Kíli’s life for he loved his nephew like the son he had never had.

After a short moment of total mayhem, the cave became silent again. That’s when Thorin eventually noticed the shivering hobbit crouched on the ground beside him.

“Bilbo? It’s all right. It’s gone.”

Still trembling, the hobbit stared at his former professor and asked with a shaky voice “What was that?”

Thorin was about to answer when he felt something cold and wet encircling him. The flood tide!

“We must get out of here! Quick!”

Thorin manhandled a still shocked Bilbo out of their rock shelter, leaving the torch behind them. Once out of the merrows’ nest, they heard a low and angry growl coming from the opposite side of the cave. The monster was busy elsewhere. It was now or never.

Thorin settled Bilbo across his shoulder and jumped in a growing pool of water. It was their only way out.

Fighting against the strength of the current, the dwarf forced their way out of the cave, to the other side of the beach, now covered with water.

Kíli! They had to find him!

Thorin hurried across the highest rocks and turned just in time to see Kíli and his colleague on the beach waving at Bofur, who was running towards them.

The dwarf’s shoulder was starting to ache, and he remembered he had been holding Bilbo the whole time. The hobbit was still in shock, his limbs as limp as those of a ragdoll.

Thorin transferred Bilbo in his arms and ran as fast as he could to join his nephew who was frantically screaming his name.

Chapter Text

Back at the lab, the small group of dwarves gathered around Bilbo’s desk. The hobbit was still in the car, recovering from the shock, watched over by Thorin.

Bofur had told them about the buried eggs while they were driving, and now they all were frantic. It was not hard to make the connection between the eggs buried in the beach and the mysterious stranding of dead whales on the same beach. Killed at sea, as Bilbo had diagnosed.  The whales had been intended as baby food by Papa monster.

After a worried look at the creature lying on the examination table, Kíli grabbed the lab’s phone and called his colleagues from the mainland.

“Brithombar station. Please hold.”

“No, wait, no! It’s O’Shea from Erebor! We’ve got an emergency, a real one, a huge one!”

“Did you run out of whiskey, O’Shea?” laughed the other guard on the phone.

When Fíli heard their colleague mocking his teammate instead of taking him seriously, he lost his usual calm.

“Give me that phone,” he demanded angrily.  “ Listen, you, we need the ERU now.”

“Look, there’s a storm coming. Coastguards have called all boats back to port. Now, whatever it is, it’s gonna have to wait until the morning, all right?”

The dwarves stared at the phone. The guard had hung up.

“The ERU won’t help us? Fine! We’ll handle this on our own!” Kíli slammed the handset onto its base and gave the inanimate Akhlat a dark look. “Bofur, go to the car and get the jerrycan. We’ll burn that bitch down.”

For once, Fíli gave his teammate an approving look.

*~*

In the car, Bilbo was slowly getting his breathing back to normal. This was embarrassing. He was a grown man and a level-headed scientist. Who had behaved like a damsel in distress in a horror film, swooning in the arms of the big strong hero.  That strong hero was holding out a water bottle, one hand still on Bilbo’s forearm.

“Here. Drink some water; it will help.”

Bilbo hoped that his mumbled thanks would be interpreted correctly. The water did help to energise him.

“I’m sorry,” he said in his normal tone of voice, handing the bottle back to Thorin. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a shock.”

Thorin’s voice was still soothing as if he talked to a little child.  Bilbo scrutinised the dwarf’s face carefully, looking for any traces of disgust or disappointment. He couldn’t find any, but he was sure that he had just blown the last remnants of a chance he had with Thorin, a strong, brave dwarf.

“Still, I …” Before Bilbo could come up with anything that would have saved his face, the door was pulled open, and the scent of Poitin told them that it was Bofur.

The dwarf gave them a cheery nod as he rummaged through the gear. Having found what he was looking for, he slammed the door shut again. Bilbo turned to Thorin.

“Did he just take the jerrycan?”

“I think he did.”

“What can he want with that?”

Thorin frowned and threw the door open.

“Let’s find out!”

Determined not to let Thorin down again, Bilbo jumped out too. He wobbled slightly and had to hold onto the car to steady himself. Thorin was by his side in an instant so Bilbo straightened and nodded. They hurried after the excited fisherman into Bilbo’s precious lab.

Fíli had already armed himself with a fire extinguisher and stood next to the Akhlat while Kíli took the jerrycan from Bofur and doused the Akhlat in petrol. Bilbo gaped.

“Are you mad? Don’t do that!”

“It’s for the best,” Fíli interrupted him calmly before Bilbo could go on.

“No!” Bilbo shouted. “No, no, no, no … if he lights that in here …”

Kíli struck a match and threw it at the Akhlat. They all jumped back when a gigantic flame engulfed the little monster.

The shrill ringing of the fire alarm rattled the dwarves’ bones before they were drenched in the cold water from the sprinklers.

Bilbo waggled his finger. “I was about to say we’ll get wet. That’s all. You’re really an Irish dwarf. Stubborn to the core!”

Kíli swore loudly while Thorin went to switch the fire alarm off. Bofur discreetly retreated into a far corner, ducking behind a pile of old rope.  

The younger dwarves huddled over the cupboard under the sink, trying to find the main faucet. While Bilbo and Kíli argued, Fíli shut the water off at the same moment that Thorin disabled the fire alarm.

They all stood around, dripping water in silence. As if on command, everybody turned to the Akhlat, which was plopped on the table, as still as before.

But Bilbo grabbed a chair, while Fíli took up two large knives from the sideboard, twirling one in each hand. Kíli couldn’t take his eyes of that sight.

Until he realised that he was the one closest to that thing and unarmed. He quickly picked up the nearest object, a broken bit of an oar that had propped up a little shelf which collapsed unnoticed.

They all crept closer to the table, their weapons at the ready.

Fíli lowered his knives. “I think it’s dead.”

No glowing, no squealing, just a limp mass of odd flesh.

“Oh no, it’s just resting …” Feeling giddy, Kíli let out a little relieved laugh.

It was cut short when his face was sprayed with foul liquid before the Akhlat jumped onto him.

“Mahal almighty! Kíli!” Fíli instinctively jumped back as Kíli pulled at the tentacles covering his face.

“It’s trying to fuck me face!” Kíli’s words, muffled by the monster’s body, spurred Fíli and Thorin into action. Fíli dropped his knives. He couldn’t risk stabbing Kíli’s face or neck.

Kíli stumbled backwards, foot caught in a lobster pot and crashed to the ground.

“Get up!” Thorin commanded, reaching for the tentacles flailing in the air.

Kíli tried to prop himself up on the wall. Thorin, Bilbo and Fíli all grabbed at the tentacles wrapped around Kíli’s head. They tried to pull, but they only provoked a tighter embrace around the dwarf’s face. Kíli was choking. Thorin dug his nails into the monster’s arms and scratched them. But it wouldn’t budge. Fíli and Bilbo tried to grab the tentacles again, but they were too slippery. Nothing distracted the predator from its prey.

After a fierce struggle, they all managed to grab a tentacle. Thorin gave the command to pull. And pull they did with all their might. Kíli stumbled forward; the creature held on.

They fell onto their butts when the creature let go and shot backwards. It coiled in the corner, squealing softly.

Kíli’s mouth was bleeding, and he wiped it with a limp hand.

“Vicious little fuck!”

Fíli sighed in relief. Kíli’s voice was shaken, but he was okay. Thorin put his hand around his nephew’s shoulder. “Kíli …”

“I’m fine!” Kíli grumbled. He stumbled up and gave the Akhlat a nasty kick.

Bilbo took his cue and lifted his chair again, striking the creature. Fíli’s knives were somewhere beyond reach. The blond grabbed an oar from the wall and clubbed the Akhlat, joined by Thorin, who had found a metal rod.

Bilbo shook his head. “There goes the greatest discovery of our time.” He looked up to Thorin. “Imagine what we could have learnt.”

Before the professor could answer, the creature squealed and the four of them frantically bashed it until it stopped.

Bilbo hit Thorin’s thigh with his chair. Fíli’s oar hit Kíli’s calf. Nobody noticed anything but the Akhlat on the floor.

When it hadn’t shown any signs of life for a while, Fíli took a step backwards.

“We’re gonna need help from the mainland.”

Kíli looked at him.

“You heard them. They’ll never get across the water.”

Fíli bit his lower lip. “But all those eggs will hatch and with no whales to eat …”

“They will have to head inland to feed,” Bilbo finished that thought.

Thorin and Kíli frowned.

“Finishing each other’s sentences now?” Kíli inquired before Thorin could say anything.

“What?” The question didn’t make any sense to Fíli, who was imagining baby monsters killing the islanders.

Bofur came out from his corner.

“I would have helped …” he assured them, his most roguish smile in place. “I have a bad back. Gives me shocking pain, you know yourself.”

Kíli turned towards him and his frown intensified. “How are you still alive?’”

“Diet and exercise.”

“It took all four of us to get that thing off me.”

Bofur just shrugged. “I was always lucky.”

While Kíli took a swig from his flask to calm himself, Bilbo scrutinised Bofur.

“It mustn’t have liked your blood very much.”

“What have you been eating?” Thorin asked, placing himself between Bilbo and Fíli.

Bofur shrugged. “I had a bit of a banana, a bag of chips yesterday, and …”

No food to speak of but plenty of ale and Poitin.

“You were drunk,” Kíli concluded triumphantly.

A squawk from behind them had them all grab their weapons again.

*~*

“I attended a  nursing course before joining the guards,” explained Fíli while carefully disinfecting Kíli’s wounds caused by the Akhlat.

“Why did you choose to be a Garda, then?”

Fíli tensed briefly.

“That’s a long story, and you wouldn’t be interested in hearing it anyway.”

“What if I would?”

“Perhaps another day?” answered Fíli with a briefly disconcerted smile “Here, you’re good to go. Just make sure you don’t touch your face with dirty hands.”

Before Kíli could answer, Fíli had dashed to inform Bilbo of the close expiration date of his first aid kit.

Everybody was fussing around, unsure of what to do now. Everybody but Kíli, whose mind was on overdrive. Massaging his temples, the guard was trying to assemble all the facts from the previous hours to get a coherent schema.

He raised his head when he felt a large hand squeeze his shoulder. It was Thorin.

The older dwarf took a chair and sat beside his nephew. He was looking tired and worried.

“We must find a way to kill those monsters. We’re already lucky that half of the islanders is away.”

Having overheard Kíli, Fíli joined them. The guards began a heated discussion.

“They’re like leeches, right? They feed off the blood. Well, when one of them bit Bofur, it almost died. Why, though?”

“Because Bofur was so intoxicated, his blood alcohol level was toxic.”

“Exactly! If we taint our blood with booze, we’re poisonous to eat.”

Thorin interrupted them. “That’s only a theory. What makes you think it will work?”

Kíli’s look was confident when he answered: “We have only one way to find out. Tomorrow, we’ll be sorted; we’ll get off the island, they’ll nuke the beaches or whatever they do. All we have to worry about is tonight. It’s simple. We have a lock-in in the pub. We stay out of the rain, and we drink.”

Fíli nodded toward the beast laying on the floor. “We should take it to the pub and run a few tests on it. Just to know how much alcohol is needed to kill it. There’s no time to fetch alcohol and come back here to do it, so we need to go to the pub right away.”

Kíli and Thorin gave him an approving look, and they all turned to Bilbo.

The hobbit cast the dwarves a questioning look. “Why are you looking at me?”

Bofur snorted. “You’re the scientist. You’ve got to take it.”

Bilbo fidgeted and took a furtive look at Thorin. This was an unexpected occasion to rise in the dwarf’s esteem.

“All right, all right, I do it!” The hobbit checked his silicon gloves box. It was empty. An unpleasant feeling seized him as he realised he had to touch the monster with his bare hands. No, he just couldn’t do that.

Armed with a broom, he gave a tentative push to the creature. It didn’t move. Ill-at-ease, Bilbo scrunched up his nose and looked up. All the dwarves were expectantly looking at him.

“I… um… could somebody put the small tank over here, so I could push her inside? Please?”

Fíli brought the little aquarium and put it next to the Akhlat with some care. Bilbo pushed it with his broom, but the creature wouldn’t move. The poor hobbit struggled with the tentacles under Thorin’s scrutinising look. Nobody lifted a finger to help him.

I can’t let him do this alone; it’s too dangerous! thought Thorin. Abruptly, the dwarf strode across the room and shoved Bilbo aside. The hobbit stumbled and cast a mortified look at his former professor. Thorin had grasped the Akhlat’s body and was forcing it into the tank. Bilbo recomposed himself quickly and, overcoming his disgust, crammed the tentacles into the box.

Everybody heaved a relieved breath when Thorin finished sealing the tank. The creature still showed no sign of coming to life again.  They were good to go.

*~*

“We should go through the back door. I don’t want Nori to see us,” proposed Fíli. His companions nodded their agreement, and they entered the pub in silence like a band of burglars.

Dwalin was in his kitchen, unloading the dishwasher. A noise behind him made him turn around, and he faced his friends, accompanied by the new guard occupying one of his guestrooms. He was about to greet them with his usual mirth when he saw the grave looks on their faces.

“Guys? What are you doing here?”

“Dwalin, we have to talk,” said Thorin.

As Thorin’s was telling what had happened within the previous hours, Dwalin’s eyes grew huger and huger. In the end, he was looking at his friends as if they were all gone bonkers.

“What???”

“Listen, it’s a hostile migratory…, ” Bilbo tried to explain but got cut short by Bofur.

“Akhlat!”

“For Yavanna’s sake!” Bilbo rolled his eyes.

Dwalin couldn’t believe his ears. It was only four in the afternoon, and they all acted as if they were pissed. Like, late-Saturday-night-pissed.

Bofur was beyond excitement and tugged Bilbo’s sleeve.  “Show him.”

The Hobbit asked for a pitcher of water and reverently removed the cloth hiding the contents of the tank. Everyone, except Dwalin, took a step backwards when Bilbo poured water on the creature. It gurgled menacingly, eliciting a suspicious look from the bald dwarf.

“That?” They all nodded in agreement. “You should have killed that with an axe!”

That was the wrong thing to say. Thorin huffed and glared at his oldest friend. “That’s just the tip of the bloodsucking iceberg.”

Dwalin looked at the small group incredulously. “And you call that an Akhlat?”

Bilbo and Thorin silently cursed their companions, and the Hobbit capitulated “Ok, I give up. Yes, it’s an Akhlat. Well done!”

Bofur asked Kíli: “If it’s allergic to alcohol, couldn’t we just hose it down with vodka or some shit?” But the guard disagreed, for once approved by Bilbo.

Dwalin protested. “How d’you know? Give it a go!”

Bilbo explained: “Alcohol is a poison, but it needs to be ingested to have an effect.”

Fíli, who had remained silent from the beginning, mused:  “Could we not just spray some whiskey in his mouth?”

Bofur gave him a shocked look bordering on angry. “Feck that. Waste of whiskey.”

Suddenly, Dwalin pricked up his ears. A panicked look passed through his eyes, and he blanched slightly. Everybody heard faint footsteps approaching.

“Nori....” breathed the bald dwarf. A few seconds later, his wife entered the kitchen, carrying a laundry basket. Her sixth sense as sharp as a hunting knife instantly detected something unusual was happening.

“What’s going on here, then?”

All the men instinctively closed ranks to protect the creature from her prying eyes.

Dwalin lost his composure. His wife was merciless, and deep down he knew she would discover everything soon or later. Nevertheless, he tried hard to look cool, but his voice betrayed his nervousness. “Just discussing something.”

Nori read her husband’s mind like an open book. “Looks like you’re plotting something.”

Bofur avoided her eyes. Even he could be destabilised by the nosey dwarrowdam.

Kíli tried to rescue his godfather. “No, no, no, no. Em, it’s more like, em, planning, yeah.”

Nori’s suspicious look morphed into a ‘Oh-I-see’ look, and she winked at her husband before going out of the kitchen, visibly happy and whistling a merry tune.

Dwalin heaved a sigh of defeat. Kíli had involuntarily begun to dig his godfather’s grave. “Great. It’s her birthday next week. Now she thinks it’s something for her.”

Only Kíli and Fíli gave him a sympathetic look.

*~*

In the distance, a dark wall of clouds was drawing nearer, looming over the hills of the mainland and slowly swallowing them. Blasts of wind were already whipping Erebor island and the small group of dwarves and the hobbit huddling at the peer, whence they had fled to escape prying ears. They were sprayed with water, as the waves crashed and roared against the dock, water licking at the walkway.

Kíli looked out, facing in the direction of the Tharr Narag caves, where the beast was hiding. He had to raise his voice to beat the tempestuous sea.

“The only people who know about this are us. It’s gotta stay that way, or we’ll have a panic at our hands.”

Dwalin nodded. “And everyone needs to get drunk. How drunk are we talking here?”

“Bofur levels of drunkenness, I’m afraid.” Bilbo grimaced unhappily as Dwalin barked out a laugh.

“You’ve gone off your game, halfling!”

Fíli nodded. “No offence, but I don’t think my body can handle Bofur levels.”

“Takes years of practice.” Bofur took his hat off as if he was accepting a great compliment. Fíli rolled his eyes.

“With everyone hammered,” he continued reasonably, “there’s no one in a fit state to call the shots.”

“I’ll keep order.” Everybody turned around to stare at Kíli.

“You what?” Thorin exclaimed.

“I’ll keep order,” his nephew repeated. “I won’t be drinking.”

“You???” Fíli stared at him. “We’ll both do it,” the blond Garda decided.

“That would put you both at risk,” Bilbo pointed out.

“Yes. Only one of us needs to risk it, and it’s going to be me,” Kíli said forcefully. “I know the people of this island better than you; it is my job to protect them.”

“No!” Thorin shouted. “No. Look, I see what you’re doing here. But have you forgotten that you’re a dependent alcoholic organising a piss-up in a brewery? I will do it. I am the mayor, and I can restrain myself.”

Kíli gulped a few times, making his Adam's apple dance in his throat. “Thorin …”

“Everybody knows that Kíli,” Thorin cut him off. “I appreciate that you want to do your job, but …”

“You are right.” Kíli had found his balance again, covering his hurt in anger. “It is my job. I am the local Garda. Not you. I’m good to no one when I drink, I know that, Uncle.” He almost forgot their audience. “So do you. I can do this.”

Thorin face softened, but his jaw was still squared in his most stubborn expression. Before he could say anything, Fíli said something that was drowned by the wind and pulled Kíli away.

“Look,” he whispered, standing close to Kíli near the angry water. “You don’t need to prove anything. You have done a brilliant job today; everybody could see that. I could see that. You really don’t have to do that, to prove something. I can do it.”

“But I do,” Kíli said bitterly. “I can stay off the whiskey for one night, I really can. You didn’t come here from Dublin expecting to spend your holidays lazing around in as a countryside guard to get killed by some eldritch creature.”

Fíli laughed mirthlessly. “It’s a job hazard.”

“It really isn’t.” Kíli looked towards the docks. The others were watching them intently.

“Look, whatever anyone says, Thorin will also stay sober tonight. You don’t have to worry about me letting you down.”

Fíli moved even closer to the other guard until they were almost touching. “I will trust you on this,” he said earnestly. “I will trust you and not Thorin. But so that you know..." Fili ducked his head, suddenly hesitant. For the first time, he looked anxious and almost vulnerable. He took a deep breath and blurted out: "I don't drink. I’ve never been drunk. I don’t know if I can.”

It was almost like a confession. Despite the wind muffling their voices, he had almost whispered. Kíli smiled at his colleague.

“Of course, you can. And you’ll be the best drunken guard this country’s ever seen. You’ll probably get promoted.”

Fíli chuckled despite himself. “Stop.”

Kíli saw his uncle and Bilbo approaching and quickly handed Fíli his flask for safekeeping.  Before Fíli could react, Bilbo and Thorin were upon them.

“There’s no time to waste,” Thorin admonished both young guards and steered them back towards the pub.

Bilbo nodded.

“Right. Well. If we’re going to do this, we’ll need a blood test from a healthy subject.”

His glance flitted to Thorin, but then he fixed on Fíli. “Fíli, you’re the fittest person here.”

Bilbo raised his eyebrows as Thorin made a sound of protest in his throat.

“You’re too old, Uncle,” Kíli said, feeling vicious after his uncle had humiliated him earlier.

“You’re a charmer, Bilbo,” Fíli joked to break the building tension.

“Dwalin, we need a table of everything Bofur had last night.” Kíli was in his most professional mode.

Fíli groaned, realising too late what he was in for. “You’ve gotta be joking me.”

“I’m really not.” Kíli put a comradely hand on Fíli’s shoulder to give him the courage to face his trial.

*~*

Kíli had never heard Fíli snigger. His usual reserved self had vanished in favour of a red-cheeked, loud, and excessively communicative stranger. The blond guard had just finished his sixth pint of ale when he slurred: “Mmm… Mmm! She never liked me as much as him. He was always the talented one. Mommy’s little boy! Bastard!” His cackling made Kíli wince internally. “But… I do have you, guys, and I love you all!” Much to Kíli’s surprise, Fíli booped his nose and added with a wink: “Even you!”

“All right, he’s langered,” noted Dwalin with a hint of amusement.

“For the size of him, he’s able to take it,” added Thorin in an almost admirative tone. Bilbo cast the dwarf a furtive look as a whiff of jealousy hit him, but Thorin didn’t notice it.

Kíli eyed the pint glasses aligned on the table, amazed by Fíli’s ability to drink so much (and for the first time) and not to be already dead drunk under the table.

“There, that’s the lot.”

Fíli grinned proudly at his teammate, his glance unfocused, and burped noisily.  

Bofur fidgeted in his seat. Looking at Kíli, he took a bottle out of his coat.

“I also had a snifter of…”

“Bofur? What’s that?” asked Dwalin in a menacing tone.

“It’s a home brew.”

“You bring Poitin into my bar?”

“A bird never flew on one wing!”

Kíli cast the fisherman a reproachful look “Bofur, when this is over, we need to talk”

“Ah, come off it! This could save all our lives yet!” He poured a generous portion of the clear liquid into a glass, and silently encouraged Fíli to drink it.

The young guard snorted and drank the whole glass in one go. The strong alcohol burnt his throat and got straight to his head, leaving him gasping and coughing.

Fire was spreading in his body. He had to get up and extinguish it!

Fíli jumped to his feet and immediately lost his balance. Why was the floor swaying? He tried to explain himself, but his sentence got lost somewhere between his hazy brain and his mouth, so he just slurred an incoherent stream of words while staggering across the room.  All the dwarves and the hobbit got up and followed his wandering through the bar.

Kíli hurried to catch Fíli as the latter’s knees gave way.

“Hey, careful,” said the guard gently.

The drunk dwarf sagged and remained sprawled on the floor, giggling madly, unable to get up by himself.

“Come on. Up you get. Nice and easy,” encouraged Kíli while trying to haul Fíli up. “Uncle? Let’s get ready to do the blood test.”

Fíli attempted to straighten his legs, helped by his teammate, but his body wouldn’t obey his brain anymore. Half walking, half carried by Kíli, the dwarf made his way to the pub’s kitchen.

*~*

Thorin and Bilbo had prepared everything they needed to test Fíli’s blood. They had borrowed medical supplies from Óin, who was glad not to take part in this risky adventure. A severed head on his desk had been bad enough, thank you very much.

Fíli sagged on the nearest chair, a concerned Kíli by his side. As he saw the needle approaching the crook of his arm, the dwarf got a bit pale and closed his eyes tightly.

“Take a deep breath and relax,” whispered Kíli to support him. Fíli complied and let Thorin take his blood. The latter wasn’t specialised in medicine, but his hand never faltered.

During the whole process, Bilbo observed him with admirative eyes. The hobbit wished he could be as daring as his mentor.

Once the precious fluid was sampled, Thorin poured it into a pint glass. Knowing what would come next, everybody in the room was silent as tension was intensifying. Thorin nodded to Bilbo and the hobbit fetched the tank sheltering the Akhlat.

Dwalin broke the silence: ““So, if you’re right, this’ll kill it.” Nobody answered.

Kíli held the pint and approached the tank.

“Bottoms up.”

Chapter Text

Bilbo opened the tank gingerly, his hands trembling. The slimy white tongue shot out faster than he expected and he stumbled backwards.

The Akhlat sucked up the blood, while the dwarves watching the display had a hard time containing their disgust. Even Dwalin, usually unruffled by everything, made a disgusted noise. Kíli filed that away for a later opportunity. If they got one.

As soon as the thing had withdrawn its tongue, Bilbo pounced on the lid, securing it as well as he could.

They all watched the tank, barely daring to breathe.

The tentacles behind the glass began to quiver. They slowly unfolded, like a frightful flower, to reveal the dreadful mouth. It was oozing a milky liquid mingled with blood. The gurgling sound reverberated in the hushed room.

Fíli had to fight the urge to throw up violently. When he had almost lost the battle with his stomach, the Akhlat stilled. It looked almost peaceful as it sank to the bottom of the tank, the tentacles flopping down.

Thorin smiled in relief. “It must be a teetotaller.”

“Bingo.” Bilbo’s grin was more forced. He wouldn’t give his feeling of dread and sickness away in front of Thorin. Never.

Kíli was focused on something else. He took the breathalyzer and handed it to Fíli. For a moment, the blond dwarf just blinked. He was usually the one handing out breathalyzers for people to blow in. Then his fuzzy brain told him why his breath needed to be analyzed. He blew into it and handed it back to his handsome colleague when it beeped.

Kíli’s eyes grew wide. “Point two. Mahal be blessed!” He glared at Bofur. “You unnatural eejit! You’re what’ll kill us! Point two?”

Thorin frowned. “You’re looking at ten pints each, depending on height and weight.”

Dwalin sighed in defeat, already seeing his bar depleted. “We’ll have to do shots. Properly tear the arse out of it.”

Fíli snickered when Dwalin said “arse.” Kíli generously ignored that, he just nodded at everybody else.

“Let’s do this!”

*~~~~*

They were lucky it was Sunday - all the dwarves were gathered in the temple of Mahal, including Nori who had given Dwalin a hard time earlier for not going. Luckily, she and everybody else would just think that Dwalin had another fight with the priest, his older brother Balin.

When the little group burst into the temple, Balin stood on his pulpit, just about to finish the service.

“Mukhuh mabaddakhi ya bunmû Mahal. May we meet again with the grace of Mahal.”

The priest glared first at this brother and then at the new guard, who was clearly hammered and strolled into the temple as if he owned it.

Kíli hurried to the front. “Balin, would you mind if I say a few words?” He gave a cheery little wave to the assembled dwarves. “Hi, folks! How are youse?”

Balin shrugged. Like his brother, he had a weakness for the cheeky young dwarf. “Go mad.”

Fíli ambled next to Kíli, as the guard addressed the crowd.

“Thanks. Em … Just a quick announcement. At Dwalin’s tavern tonight, we’re having a bit of a shindig, and you’re all coming to join us for what it’ll be, a great night’s craic.”

They all stared at him as if convinced that alcohol finally made him lose what was left of his mind. Kíli smiled bravely. “Tell, everybody. Tell your friends, tell your families. Everybody’s welcome!”

Nori, who was in the front row looked from her husband to Kíli.

“You’re throwing a party?”

“Yeah,” both answered.

“Why?”

Dwalin glared as his wife. When had Nori ever objected to a party? Did she need to start now?

Kíli just shrugged “Who needs a reason to have a laugh?”

Fíli finally decided that it was his turn to support his colleague. “’Tis a welcome party for me!”

“A welcome party?” Nori echoed. “But you’re leaving in a fortnight!”

Fíli glared at her. “So it’s a goodbye party. Wha’ever.”

“But you only just got here.”

“Who cares! ’Tis a party for me!” Fíli turned to Kíli, scowling. “Wha’s her problem?”

“Erm …” Kíli tried to regain control. “What we mean to say is that …”

Two dwarves had enough of this exchange and got up. Unfortunately, Fíli saw them.

“Hey, bucko, where are ye going? This party’s for yer benefit.” He pointed at the dwarves and then at everyone. “And all of you are gonna be there too!”

“Shhh…” Kíli pushed Fíli’s arm down. “Come on.”

Fíli was unfazed. “It’s the law!” he shouted. “And I swear to Mahâl,” he gestured vaguely at the statue behind him, “I’ll arrest anyone who isn’t there.”

He had to cling on to Kíli when dizziness overcame him, and the other guard seized the opportunity.

“What Garda Nolan here means to say is that we’d love your company! There’s no point going home to a cold, empty house when there’ll be music and company and the craic!” He hoped his cheerfulness did not seem as forced as it felt.  When the crowd still looked unconvinced he added. “... and a free bar!”

A dwarrowdam in the back shouted: “A free bar? Oh, you’re on boy!” Everybody stood up and cheered.

“That’s the spirit!” Kíli cheered too. “Now come on, it’s a party and the drinks are on us!”

He avoided meeting the eyes of his godfather. Dwalin was not pleased, but he didn’t say anything. He took Nori’s arm and left the temple with the rest of the dwarrow population in tow, including Balin who never hesitated when free drinks were offered.

Those who were not in the temple were going to get a call and come too, Kíli knew it. No dwarf could resist a free bar.

And neither could the elves, hopefully. They had to hurry to catch them coming down from their worship on Aiancorda. He didn’t bother with a speech, he just shouted at the elves he knew, that there was a free bar at Dwalin’s tavern that night and that they were all invited.

*~~~~*

The small pub was crammed with people. The whole population remaining on Erebor had answered the siren’s call of a free bar. Traditional festive music was blaring from an ancient jukebox and happily inebriated dwarves and elves were chattering and dancing in a warmhearted atmosphere. None of the revellers heard the heavy rain and the low rumble of the coming storm outside.

Inside the kitchen, four dwarves and a hobbit were trying to set up a secret battle plan.

Kíli addressed his comrades-in-arms: “Right, weapons. What have we got?”

Fíli raised two steak knives and enthusiastically chimed “Crap!” With a slight wince, Kíli avoided the blades just in time before one of them scratched his cheek.

Quite proud of himself, Bofur put a nail gun on the table and brandished two other objects.

“I’ve got a hurley and a pellet gun.” Beside him, Fíli cackled, and Bofur cast him a dirty look.

Exasperated, Bilbo asked: “What are we going to do with a pellet gun?”

Was the hobbit stupid or what? Calmly, Bofur answered: “Shoot pellets,” then he remembered, “But I don’t have any pellets.”

Bilbo snorted.“Oh, right. Well, you can just wiggle it at them, then!”

While his unfocused glance swung between Bofur and Bilbo like he was watching a tennis game, Fíli didn’t even try to repress a sneer escaping his mouth. Willing to cut the upcoming argument between the fisherman and the scientist, Kíli took over and asked Bilbo: “All right, what have you got?”

Glad to be the centre of attention again, Bilbo presented his weapon of choice: a loaded flare gun. Fíli’s mouth formed an ecstatic “o” and he drawled “I dibs the flare gun!” The young Garda didn’t notice the angry glare Thorin shot him.

Suddenly, Dwalin burst into the kitchen. His face was serious as he put his implement on the table.

“CPS 4100 pump-action twin-jet Super Soaker. Shoots twenty feet.” He chose to make a dramatic pause, then explained: “Dori’s boys.” Fíli looked at him in sheer admiration, but Bofur glanced suspiciously at the object lying before him on the table.

“Dwalin, it’s a… it’s a water pistol. This thing loves the water!”

As if he was talking to a very small child, Dwalin retorted: “It’s a water pistol if you use water. Fill it with petrol, you’ve got a flamethrower.”

“Oh…”

A wild light twinkling in his eyes, Fíli declared “Dibs the water pistol!”

After this rather pathetic display of useless utensils, Kíli tried to encourage his companions.

“Right. Look sharp, folks. You know your stations. Guard each exit and don’t let anyone out.”

On that, he grabbed a nearby bottle of tequila and served everyone shots, excluding himself and Thorin.

“Bottoms up!”

They all raised their glasses and swiftly swallowed the alcohol before going to their respective positions. Kíli and Fíli went outside and took shelter in their service car. From there, they could keep contact with the inside of the pub through their radio. Dwalin went back behind his bar. Bofur made his way through the merry crowd to guard the main entrance. Bilbo and Thorin stayed in the kitchen.

From inside the pub, the sounds of a roaring party reached them. Nori could be heard greeting little old Mamie, the oldest dwarrowdam on the island, loud enough to reach the hobbit’s ears over the din. Some elves were already singing and the stomping associated with dwarfish dancing vibrated through the entire ground floor. Dwalin came back in and handed a big glass of whiskey to Bilbo and one of his ancient battle axes to Thorin. He couldn’t stay, loud shouts came from the taproom calling for more beer.

Bilbo grimaced as he started sipping his drink. He looked outside, shaking only slightly. Somewhere out there lurked a monster. And his monstrous babies. He took a quick drink. Thorin, next to him, seemed unperturbed, leaning onto his axe like a warrior of old.

Bilbo hastily took another gulp from his whiskey glass - so much it burned his throat and he started coughing.

Thorin put his large hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine.”

At that moment the radio crackled and they could faintly make out Kíli’s voice.

“Control to base. Control to base. Come in. Over.”

Bilbo giggled. This was too absurd.

“Reading you loud and clear!” He giggled again. “That’s a lie. You’re whis-- whispering.” He nearly stumbled over the last word. The radio crackled again and Kíli spoke more loudly.

“How are you doing in there?”

Thorin took the phone from the giddy hobbit.

“Ignorance is bliss. - Bilbo is on his way to being uselessly wasted, but I will manage.”

Bilbo missed the worried glance Thorin gave him. He just heard that Thorin considered him useless. On the table, he spotted Bofur’s “home brew” bottle. Bilbo took it impulsively, uncorked it and sniffed. He coughed again. The smell alone was nearly enough to knock a grown hobbit out. He poured a little into a glass and drank. He gasped and poured himself another glass.

Before he could down it, Thorin was by his side and took it off him.

“Easy there, Bilbo. We want you drunk, we don’t want to you to get alcohol poisoning. That’s too dangerous.”

“Oh, yeah? Is it?” Bilbo wobbled and held feebly onto the edge of the table. “Y’think I’m use...less, right?”

“Bilbo …”

“’m no dwarf,” Bilbo said, staring sadly at the Poitín that was out of reach.

“No, you’re not. That’s why you should keep away from Bofur’s stuff.”

Bilbo was vaguely aware that they were supposed to watch out for Akhlat. Instead, he watched Thorin’s face. So handsome. So much hair. Such blue eyes. Such pretty little wrinkles around his eyes.

“You’re real - hansome,” he said apropos of nothing. Thorin frowned.

“All right, that’s it. You’re cut off. I won’t risk your life.”

Bilbo laughed. “There’re monsters outside, Thorin.”

“And they won’t get you. Just keep out of the way and …”

“You don’t reshpect me!” Bilbo tried to make himself taller. “You ne’er did. And it always … I always trie-ed to get you to notiss me!”

“But …” Thorin looked confused.

“Yes! Because you’re so … so hansome, and so stro-ong …. and so-o …. so kind to the otherrrs, just … just you’ve always hated me, ‘nd I ….”

“THERE is our mayor.”

“What do you want!” Bilbo nearly fell down when Thorin whipped around, his voice dripping with venom. Alfrid. The only human left on the island this night and Bilbo had even faintly protested earlier that nobody needed to warn this particular creature.

“Well, well, well …” Alfrid sidled closer. “Too good to mix with us common folk, our mayor, the high and mighty professor from Dublin? Just skulking around here?”

“Alfrid … I warn you.”

“Warn me? Warn me? What are you going to do to me? Glare at me?” Alfrid cackled.

Thorin glared indeed. “Go back to the others.”

“Why?” Alfrid spotted the Poitín in Thorin’s hand. “Ooohh … having a drink here with lover boy?”

Thorin put the Poitin down on the table so hard, the bottle nearly broke.

“Leave it, Alfrid. Are you still sore you didn’t get your job as vice-mayor back?”

“I’m not one to hold grudges, me!” Alfrid protested

“Yes, you are. And that’s all that needs to be said tonight.” He looked at Bilbo. “Don’t mind him.”

Alfrid pointed to the door.

“Come outside then to discuss it, if you’re too afraid to speak out next to your fuckboy.”

“Heyyyyy! I’m nobody’s fuckboy, you…. you….” Bilbo wiggled a threatening finger under Alfrid’s nose. The man sneered.

“Oooh, look at that! Thorin’s fuckboy has a voice! Well done, boy!”

“A’right, let’s bring it outside! I’ll fight you!” shouted the hobbit.

He was so furious he threw the door open and strode under the pouring rain.

“Bilbo, no!” yelled Thorin.

“Bilbo, no!” mimicked Alfrid in a high-pitched ridiculous voice.

The dwarf saw red. He grabbed Alfrid by the shirt and threw him outside.  

Bilbo stood stunned for a moment. Thorin had followed Alfrid outside and Bilbo stumbled after them.

The rain might actually help to clear his head. Rain.There was something important about rain and water.

Thorin might be two heads smaller than Alfrid but his anger made him appear that much larger. When Alfrid pushed himself up from the muddied ground, Thorin hissed loudly enough for Bilbo’s ears:

“If you ever repeat what you said tonight about Bilbo, I will make sure you regret it, do you understand?”

Alfrid’s grin looked even creepier under the faint light coming from the pub’s windows.

“It’s not a secret, mayor. The way you look at him …”

“The way I look at him is none of your business,” Thorin cut him off. “But there is such a thing as slander and libel and I will take action if you do not leave Bilbo out of your grievance with me.”

The dwarf did not even seem to notice the pouring rain. He was so focused on Alfrid that he failed to notice the movement behind the man. Bilbo stared in horror, his alcohol-addled brain unable to formulate a warning. Dozens of translucent little tentacled blobs skipped squelching towards the pub.

Alfrid laughed at Thorin. “Action? Against me? So everybody knows I speak the truth?”

A baby Akhlat stood up on his tentacles behind Alfrid, opened his tiny mouth and squeaked.

“What the fuck?” Alfrid exclaimed, whirling around.

*~~~~*

Protected from the rain and thunder, Fíli and Kíli were scanning the dark from the Gardai’s car parked on the dock near the pub.

Still heavily intoxicated, Fíli got bored of the silence and tried to talk to his partner. His voice came out all garbled.

“Come here, come here.”

Kíli, who was drinking strong black coffee from a thermos mug, turned his head and arched a questioning eyebrow. Fíli smiled, happy to have his attention.

“Listennnn.”

Kíli put his mug down. “Ok, I’m here.”

Fíli waggled a finger a bit too close to his colleague’s nose. “At the end of the day, you know….,” He smiled as he noticed a pair of gorgeous hazel eyes fixed on him, and his thought got lost in the haze of his drunkenness. “I don’t know.”

Kíli began to feel really concerned. Fíli had never drunk that much before. What if he got sick or passed out? The Garda asked cautiously: “How much have you had?”

A playful answer came with a totally inelegant snort: “Not enough to fancy you!”

“Well then, keep drinking,” replied Kíli with an equal playful tone.

He felt relieved. If Fíli was still in this mood, he hadn’t to worry. Still, he wanted to know how his partner was intoxicated. He gently handed a breath test to Fíli: “Blow.”

Instead of cooperating, the latter smiled widely and slurred: “That’s it, is it? You think I think I fancy you?”

Kíli felt a bit unseated. He looked at Fíli and almost got lost in those huge and beautiful unfocused blue eyes before recomposing himself. He wiggled the breath test in front of his colleague’s face and smiled fondly.

“Ok, no more for you.”

“Well, I do. So wha’ d’you wanna do ‘bout it? Arrest me?”

Fíli was too far gone to stop. Despite all his flaws, there was something in Kíli that appealed the blond Garda. And he had had to tell him. Because he was honest and always worked by the book.

Kíli’s mind was racing. This was too much to handle. Fíli and he didn’t need this. They barely knew each other! And above all that, Fíli was awfully drunk, and he might regret his own words later when he sober up.

Feeling truly uncomfortable, Kíli stammered “As… As… As flattering as it is to hear a beautiful drunk slurring his feelings for me, now’s not the time.”

Fíli felt rejected. For once, he had dared to share his feelings. What did that answer mean? Did Kíli like him, at least a little, or not?? Oh no, maybe he was only into women! Oh no, oh no, oh no! The young Garda wished the ground could swallow him right now. He retreated into the bottom of his seat and remained silent for a long moment.

Kíli stole a few glances of Fíli. He didn’t regret his words. Now wasn’t the time. However, he felt bad for Fíli. The blond was visibly hurt. As silence settled, they both scanned the rainy night for a few minutes.

Out of the blue, a question spurted out of Fílis mind.

“Why d’you drink so much?”

Oh, no, we’re not going there, mate! thought Kíli. He opted for a cheeky answer, knowing it worked all the time: “For the craic.”

“Yeah, right. And I work every day ‘cos I’m driven. Always chasin’ them goals, y’know? Always chasin’, always runnin’...” Fíli never finished his sentence. A huge wave of sadness washed over him and he found himself suddenly on the verge of tears. What did his life mean? He had no real friends and lived alone in a small flat with his cat. All he had was his work. He loved it, of course. But he needed something else. Something that would make his heart beat faster. Someone to love. Someone who would love him back. Mahal, he felt so lonely!

Oblivious to Fíli’s internal fight, Kíli tried to soothe him.  

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

Tears threatening to flow, Fíli emptied his heart. “I feel like I’ve known you for years, y’know?” His voice was slightly trembling, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. Kíli remained silent, unable to speak, but his fond look never left Fíli’s shimmering eyes.

Feeling desperate, Fíli furiously tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear and tried to wipe  his cheek. Without thinking, Kíli reached out and softly brushed the tear with his thumb.

Fíli leant into the gentle touch and briefly closed his eyes.

As he opened them again, he perceived sadness in Kíli’s tender expression. Suddenly, Nori’s words came back to his mind. What had she said? Kíli was bereft. That thought only made the blond’s heart sink.

Still having no filter between his mind and his mouth, Fíli blurted out: “I’m sorry about your wife, O’Shea.”

The other guard cast him a surprised look.

“My what?”

“Nori told me how she died.”

To Fíli’s surprise, Kíli chuckled. “Oh, Nori… Of all the stories. Nobody died. We just… We didn’t work out, that’s all.” The poor smile on the brunet’s face nearly broke Fíli’s heart. Then, embarrassment took over.

“Oh…, “ He chuckled nervously “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re grand.”

“Did you split because… because of your alcoholic-issness?”

“No. I didn’t drink back then. He met someone else. It happens.”

He? Maybe Fíli could let himself hope, finally, and this feeling made him suddenly cheerful. So cheerful that he slapped the brunet’s shoulder and chuckled, displaying his dimples.

“Feck him, O’Shea. If you want I’ll find him and I’ll sort him out for ya!”

Relieved by his partner’s sudden change of mood, Kíli allowed himself to laugh with him. That’s when they heard Thorin scream.

*~~~~*

The baby Akhlat leapt onto Alfrid’s face. Bilbo heard Thorin scream as the dwarf jumped forward and tried to wrench the monster off the man’s face.

Bilbo’s mind was still foggy from the Poitín. Was there really a host of little tentacled translucent creatures in front of him? Were they coming closer? What was going on?

“Bilbo!”

Thorin’s sharp voice cut the fog a little. Baby Akhlats. Right. They had been expecting them. They were coming closer. One had jumped Thorin from behind.

He should have brought his weapon outside. What was his weapon again?

Thorin had an axe in his hand but was busy getting one baby off Alfrid’s face. Bilbo started to reach out for the one stuck to Thorin’s bottom.

Suddenly, the thing let go of Alfrid, and Thorin fell backwards. Three Akhlats jumped him.

“THORIN!”

Kíli came running around the corner, followed by that cute blond dwarf. Fíli.

Kíli held a hurley and was swinging it wildly, scattering the babies trying to attach themselves to Thorin. Thorin’s scream could be heard through the Akhlat on his face when Kíli accidentally grazed his side.

Fíli held a golf club. Every time he hit a tentacled baby it gave a disgusting squash.

Bilbo started to feel sick just hearing it.

Was Thorin really in danger? And where did that golf club come from? Bilbo started kicking at the things that got too close to him.

“Go back, Bilbo!” Fíli shouted.

So Fíli thought he was useless too? Bilbo straightened. He was a Baggins. He was useful. He would show these dwarves.

When Bilbo didn’t move, Kíli huffed. He threw the hurley at Bilbo.

“Here.” Kíli knelt down next to Thorin, who wrestled with the thing on his face. “Let go, Thorin, I’ve got this.”

The muffled sound from underneath the Akhlat indicated doubt.

Bilbo gripped the hurley and started to join Fíli in the Akhlat bashing action. It was fun. Squash. Squash. Squash.

Kíli tore the Akhlat from Thorin’s face, tossing it back towards the water.

“You okay Thorin?”

“Cheers.” Thorin grabbed the axe he had brought, cleaving the next candidate to suck his face. Kíli started kicking and stomping.

In the middle of the mayhem, Fíli spotted some movement from the corner of his eye. Alfrid had got up and was staggering towards the kitchen’s door.

“Hey! You! Come back here now!” shouted the dwarf. Alfrid turned around a frantic look on his grey face. His professional instincts kicking in despite the alcohol, Fíli rushed toward him. If he came back to the pub, he’d spread panic.

“Don’t try to stop me!” yelled Alfrid. He had his hand on the door’s handle when the Garda threw himself onto him with all his weight. The two of them fell down and rolled on the damp ground in a tangle of limbs.

“Get off me, you fucking dwarf!!!”

Alfrid’s breath held the rancid smell of fear and loathing and his mouth twitched in a hateful smirk. Fíli’s stomach lurched as adrenalin spread through his body. He would stop that lunatic   by all means.

The fight was messy. The two opponents were drunk, and the punches uncoordinated. Thanks to his professional training, Fíli had the upper hand, but he didn’t see the vicious blow Alfrid aimed at his side coming. Grunting with pain, he curled up on the ground and tried to catch his breath.

Temporarily freed from the Garda, Alfrid crawled towards the pub. He was about to open the kitchen’s door when a strong grip on his ankle and a sharp tug made him swear through his gritted teeth. He tried to kick Fíli in the face but the dwarf dodged his booted foot in time. Panting from the effort, Fíli got up and immobilised the man with a powerful armlock.

“Get up! Get on your feet!”

Fíli was now dragging Alfrid by the collar of his shirt, trying to drive him away from the door. Near them, Thorin, Kíli, and Bilbo were battling against a never ending tide of tiny voracious monsters.

In a sudden burst of panic, Alfrid attempted to free himself from Fíli’s grip. In vain, he kicked and tried to scratch the dwarf’s face. A powerful punch to his face sent Alfrid flying a few feet away, onto the peer.

His high pitched scream a split-second later made them all turn towards the sea. And freeze.

A dark wall emerged from the water. Papa monster had arrived. As he stalked through the pouring rain on his tentacles, his gigantic frame seemed larger than the house.

Alfrid screamed again. A tentacle shot forward and dragged him towards the Akhlat’s giant mouth.

But the man was drunk. He would be fine.

When he was released, he stumbled onto his feet and looked around.

“RUN!” Fíli screamed. Above Alfrid, the Akhlat opened his mouth. Alfrid lifted his head. He was swallowed whole. The ugly squelching sound made the onlookers shudder.

“You big ugly bastard!” Kíli screamed, all disgust for Alfrid forgotten.

The Akhlat spat something in their direction. Alfrid’s head. It rolled towards Fíli, stopping just  at his feet. Fíli screamed. The Akhlat snarled. The dwarves were surrounded by dead baby monsters.

“FUCK that!” Fíli ran off towards the car, just as Thorin began to push the wobbly hobbit towards the pub entrance. Kíli ran after Fíli.

Fíli jumped in the driver’s seat. Kíli wrenched the door of the passenger’s side open.

“Come on, quickly! Quickly!” His voice rose in pitch. “Mighty Mahal preserve us.”

He tumbled into the car. “Come ON!”

“I am trying, I am trying!”

Fíli was panicking, the car wouldn’t start. The key was stuck. The stupid key was stuck.

“Start the car! Start the car! What are you doing!”

Kíli reached for the ignition, Fíli batted him away.

“Stop it! Stop it!”

The car swayed, metal creaked. The dwarves looked up, eyes wide. Something was thumping on the roof. They didn’t dare to breathe. A massive tentacle hit the windshield.

“We’re going to die! We’re going to die!” Kíli cowered in his seat. Fíli started to weep and honk frantically.

“I am arresting you for the murder of what’s-his-name!” he shouted at the tentacle. “He was a bastard but you are under arrest! You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to!”

“What are you doing! You can’t ARREST that thing!”

They both screamed as they were jerked around in their seats when the Akhlat lifted the car.

“Base to patrol.” Dwalin’s voice crackled over the radio, shocking the gardai out of their panic. “We’re dry on four taps. The kegs are outside. We’re out of spirits and wine as well.”

Kíli’s hands trembled as he grabbed the radio. “Dwalin. Dwalin. Get the door. Open the door NOW!”

“Kíli?” Thorin’s voice took over. “Kíli? What …”

Thorin was cut off when the siren blared and blue lights began to flash above them. Fíli had found the lever.

There was a thud when the Akhlat backed up in surprise.

“Come on!” Kíli whispered, barely audible over the blare. They both crept out of the car, as tentacles slid around the blue lights.

Dwalin opened the door just as they came running, but stood rooted to the spot. He had arrived just in time to see the car get smashed.

“Merciful maker.”

Quickly, he got out of the way to let Fíli and Kíli in, slamming the door shut behind him. They heard the Akhlat snarl.

Chapter Text

A pint in his hand, Bofur was watching the area beyond the tavern’s main door. All he could see was the heavy rain twirling in the halo of the lampposts outside. How he envied the pub’s guests. They were all drinking, dancing and laughing, oblivious to the danger awaiting them.

The music was so loud coming from the tap room that the fisherman didn’t hear the ruckus outside. All he saw was the two Gardai rushing out of their car and bolting towards the other side of the building.

Bofur tensed and tried to peer in that direction, but the other dwarves were now out of his visual field. That’s when he saw a swarm of what looked like giant slugs, slowly crawling towards the pub.

His blood instantly froze in his veins. The eggs… Mahal… They’re here to feed!

The dwarf wanted to move, but he couldn’t avert his eyes from the scene going on. I must warn Thorin!

Bofur pushed his way through the merry crowd. Some tried to engage him into a jig, but he fended them off, barely aware of their slurred cries of protest.

Finally, he reached the kitchen’s door. He slammed it open, ready to report what he had seen, but the room was empty. The door leading to outside was wide open and the pounding rain had formed a small puddle inside. He heard distant voices yelling. A fight.

Still clutching his pint, Bofur downed it in one gulp and shivered.

Dwalin. He had to go and get Dwalin. He would know what to do.

The fisherman rushed back to the bar. He was about to bolt behind the counter when he saw Thorin outside the window, pushing Biblo towards the pub’s locked door.

Another laborious passage through the dense crowd, and he opened just in time before the dwarf and the hobbit crashed into the door.

“Thorin! There are -”

“We know!” shouted Thorin. He didn’t have time for the fisherman. Bilbo was so pale. Thorin felt an intense need to hold him and keep him away from danger. His courageous hobbit.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” mumbled Bilbo before throwing up in the umbrella holder. Too shocked to stand, the hobbit sagged slowly to the floor. Thorin went down on one knee and put his large hand on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Bilbo? Are you ok?”
The hobbit didn’t dare to look up. He felt awful and terrorised and didn’t want Thorin to see him like this.

“I could do with a glass of water,” croaked Bilbo while trying to get up. Thinking it was the right thing to do, Thorin reached out and offered him his hand.

“I can manage to get up by myself, thank you!” harshly replied Bilbo. Not holding his drink in front of the man he admired so much had been humiliating enough.

Feeling heavy with a burden of shame, Bilbo staggered through the crowd, followed by Thorin and Bofur.

Halfway to the kitchen, Thorin suddenly became aware that K íli and Fíli weren’t there. How could that be? They were just beside him a few minutes ago! Where were they?

“Bofur, escort Bilbo to the kitchen! I have to see Dwalin!”

“I don’t need any escort!, ” slurred the vexed hobbit.

“Just do as I say!”

Thorin’s authoritarian tone made Bofur startle. The fisherman hurried to push a recalcitrant Bilbo towards the kitchen.

Worried to death, Thorin slipped behind the counter, praying to Mahal his nephew was still alive. He needed to reach him. With teary eyes, he saw that Dwalin was already talking through the radio.

“We’re dry on four taps. The kegs are outside. We’re out of spirits and wine as well.”

Kíli’s distorted voice crackled from the speaker: “Dwalin. Dwalin. Get the door. Open the door NOW!”

Thorin and Dwalin glanced at each other with huge eyes.

“To the kitchen, quick!!!”

The two dwarves bolted from behind the counter and rushed to the kitchen.

From the opposite corner of the tap room, Nori had witnessed the whole scene. What was her husband plotting again?

*~~~~*

Dwalin slammed the door shut.

Kíli had barely time to catch his breath before he was engulfed in a hug.

“Kíli!”

“Thorin … what?”

“You made it! You did! I thought you were …”

Kíli stood frozen. He was drenched with rain, he had just escaped a monster and now his distant, disapproving uncle hugged him. Nothing made sense.

“Touching.” Bilbo’s voice cut through Thorin’s babbling. “In case you did not notice, there is a monster out there.”

Fíli was pushing the kitchen table and panting, eyes wild. “We need to barricade the door.”

“Hold on!” Dwalin grabbed his axe from the table, nearly falling backwards.

“And what for?”

They all froze when Nori spoke up. The dwarrowdam swaggered into the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand, face flushed.

“What is this talk about monsters?”

The Akhlat chose that moment to slam something heavy at the ground. She startled.

“What was that … Dwalin??”

“A fecking monster.” Dwalin gripped his axe more tightly.

“Forget that!” Kíli shouted, pulling at the table. “Help us barricade the door!”

“Nori! Open the door!” Dwalin screamed at his wife, getting ready to charge. She blinked; her quick wit dulled by the whiskey and wine her husband had been pushing at her all evening.

“Stop that nonsense!” Kíli barked before she could react. “Come on, Fíli!”

Fíli was still wobbly. He nearly collapsed onto the table.Thorin shoved him away.

Fíli landed on his arse with an indignant squeak and protested while Thorin pushed with such a force that Kíli stumbled.

“Come on, Kíli!” Thorin shouted.

Dwalin gave up waiting for Nori to prepare his exit, and yanked the door open himself. That brought Nori back to life.

“Dwalin! Don’t be a hero, you bastard!”

Dwalin started yelling, swinging his axe and charging around the corner. The rain was still hammering the island, and Dwalin slithered around the corner, nearly slipping on the wet ground.

The Akhlat was ripping the police car apart, its tentacles wrapped around the bonnet.

“You great ugly bastard!” Dwalin roared. “DIE!”

He swung the axe threateningly against the nearest tentacle. The monster unfolded, baring its round mouth, saber like teeth bigger than Dwalin’s head.

Some reality began to filter through the haze of alcohol and rage. Dwalin stared. The Akhlat pushed forward, thrusting its mouth towards the dwarf.

Nori grabbed his shoulders from behind, pulling him backwards. They fell onto the muddy ground. Nori shoved him off and leapt up.

“Move, you eejit!”

Dwalin scrambled backwards, his eyes riveted on the beast, swaying as he tried to get up. Nori grabbed his wrist and yanked him. The Akhlat drew back a little, as if contemplating who to kill first.

“Come ON!” Kíli screamed from behind the corner.

Dwalin and Nori grabbed onto each other, tumbling back into the kitchen still clutching each other. Kíli slammed the door shut, Thorin and Fíli ready to push the table in front of it.

Dwalin was shaking.

“That won’t stop it,” he mumbled. “Nothing will.”

Nori staggered into him. “What is that?” she repeated her earlier question. “What is that?!”

“We call it Akhlat,” Kíli mumbled, wiping his forehead. “Who knows what it is.”

Thorin and Fíli had managed to push the table in front of the door.

Fíli smiled brightly at the stunned dwarrowdam. “T’is allergic to alcohol. Didn’t help that man though. He’s dead.”

Bilbo was sitting on the floor, looking at his trembling hands. “I … I ....”

Thorin knelt next to him. “It’s all right, Bilbo.”

“NO. It is NO’!” Bilbo screeched, his voice cracking. “No! We are ….”

The sharp noise of Thorin’s hand hitting Bilbo’s cheek echoed through the kitchen. Everyone turned to stare. Bilbo’s eyes watered.

“I am sorry.” Thorin put his large hand tentatively to Bilbo’s cheek. “You were panicking, and I …”

“It’s all right,” Bilbo murmured, leaning into Thorin’s hand. “I am …”

“The booze situation,” Dwalin declared suddenly, “I need to check on the booze situation.”

“But …” Nori started, shutting up when Fíli pushed her towards the door.

“The booze situation. T’is allergic to alcohol, remember?”

“We’ll be with you in a bit,” Thorin declared, his hand having moved to Bilbo’s shoulder.

Kíli rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’s not over yet. Everyone, to the bar!”

*~~~~*

In the taproom, the party was still going on. Balin was dancing merrily with Bombur, Bofur’s baby sister. She could stomp like no one else, her luscious beard flying and her curves the envy of many a dwarrowdam. They commanded the middle of the room, the centre of everyone’s attention. Bofur was watching them from the bar; his cousin Bifur was pensively inspecting the nail gun on the counter.

Dwalin ignored the shenanigans, going straight to the taps. He tried them all. None did more than sputter a scant few foam drops.

“We’re dry.” Dwalin slumped his shoulders. “Unless someone goes outside to change the kegs, we’re done drinking for the night.”

Bofur turned around, frowning.

“Ah, no, no, no, no, no! I was just getting a taste for it!”

Bifur uttered something in agreement.

Kíli looked around thoughtfully.

“Fíli, could you stop the music?”

Fíli looked at him, comprehending, and complied.

Kíli stepped onto a chair, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Folks folks, can I have your attention, please? Listen carefully. We’re moving this party upstairs.”

Dead silence greeted his announcement.

“And what kind of party’s this, my son?” Balin looked at him, his hand still on Bombur’s ample waist.

“It’s just a precaution …” Kíli tried to explain, over the mutterings of dwarves and elves.

“A precaution to what?” Balin glared at him.

“To …” Kíli was still looking for words, when Ori got up from her cosy place in the corner.

“I’m going home.”

“NO!” Kíli shouted at her. Ori stumbled back.

“I’m pissed,” Ori complained. “I want to go to bed.”

“You can’t go home,” Kíli repeated.

“And why not?” Balin crossed his arms. The priest did not like to be told what to do.

“It’s raining,” Fíli explained.

Meanwhile, Ori quietly put her knitting into her bag and slipped towards the exit. The rest of the patrons, elves and dwarves alike, were focused on the argument.

“It’s raining?” Balin stared at Fíli. “I don’t know about Dublin, but we’re used to a bit of rain around here, lad.”

Fíli cast a nervous glance at his colleague as everybody was laughing. They were losing control. Kíli pinched the bridge of his nose, running out of arguments. That’s where Fíli tried a bold move.

Mimicking Kíli, the inebriated Garda climbed on a nearby chair and steadied himself thanks to one of the ceiling’s girders. The crowd stared at him, expecting him to talk or make a fool of himself once again. His brain was slowed by alcohol, and he drudged to find the right words. Finally, he put on his most reassuring smile and spoke: “Ok, everyone, don’t worry. It’s grand. We’ve got it all under control. There’s nothing trying to kill ya!”

The whole audience gasped.

Balin was about to demand an explanation when a high pitched scream came from outside.

“That’s Ori…,” breathed Nori as she paled “Ori is outside!”

As one man, Kíli and Thorin rushed out of the pub. Ori was standing in the rain, frozen on the spot as she was clutching her bag close to her chest. Facing her, the Akhlat was growling, twisting its tentacles and revealing its gigantic sharp teeth.

“Ori! Get back inside now, please!”

The trembling dwarrowdam mustered all the courage she had to turn her head. Her huge eyes talked for her. She couldn’t make a single move.

“Ori, listen to me! Come on! You must get back inside! Listen to me!”

But Thorin’s calls remained unanswered.

The Akhlat was now growling faintly, as if it was interrogating itself. It slowly unreeled one of its tentacles and brought it close to Ori. The frail dwarrowdam let an involuntary squeak escape her lips when the beast probed her face almost gently.

From the entrance of the pub, Thorin and Kíli were witnessing the scene, horror struck and helpless. Ori was drunk; would she be all right? She had to!

Behind the two dwarves, everybody could see what was going on. One could only hear the rain and the wind gushing from the sea as elves and dwarves were holding their breath.

“Thorin, we must do something or Ori will get killed,” whispered Kíli.

“I know, I know! But what?”

Kíli’s brain was racing as a plan was forming in his mind. It wasn’t the best idea of his life, but it had to work.

“I’m going to count to three. Then, I run to the side to distract the monster, and you get Ori back. Come on, let’s do it!”

“Are you mad? It’s too dangerous!”

“Uncle, I can handle this. Come on!”

“But-”

“One… Two… Three!”

Everything happened in a flash. Kíli bolted to the right and screamed to draw the Akhlat’s attention to him. The monster’s reaction was immediate. Suddenly freed, Ori sagged to the ground, unconscious. Thorin rushed and picked her up. His mind was screaming to at least take a look to see if Kíli was fine, but he focused on his task and took the fainted dwarrowdam to the shelter of the pub.

Back inside, Thorin’s eyes sought Bilbo. The hobbit was staring at him, trembling. Beside him, Fíli was as pale as a sheet.

“I must find Kíli,” breathed the Garda. Without a backward glance, he rushed outside, deaf to Thorin’s cries.

Throwing all precautions to the wind, Fíli yelled Kíli’s name as loudly as he could. Spinning in every direction, the young Garda felt panic seize him as he saw Kíli was not there.

A sudden noise, some kind of whimper, attracted Fíli to the corner of the building. Once again, his anxious and intoxicated brain hurried to distil the wildest and the most horrifying thoughts into his mind. Kíli could be badly injured, or worse, on the verge of dying!

Fíli hastened towards the left corner of the building to find the source of the noise. He barely realised the area was beyond the glow of the lampposts. Trying to scan the darkness, the Garda called his colleague. He soon heard another whimper and inched closer to the sound’s source.

“Kíli? Is that you? Are you hurt?”

A quick flick of a large tongue on his hands made Fíli startle.

A dog?? The poor thing was tied by its leash to a fence, and cowering in the darkness. Fíli just couldn’t let it there - he knew he had to look for Kíli, but he couldn’t leave the dog to die. Fumbling in the dark, he untied the animal and tried to drag it inside as quickly as possible, but it crouched and refused to move.

“Hey boy, I won’t do you no harm. I just want to help you,”  whispered Fíli, trying to keep his voice steady. “You can’t stay outside like that I know a warm place where you’d be safe. Come on .”

Somehow, the dog found Fíli’s voice soothing enough and accepted to be guided outside of its hideout.

Out of breath, Kíli had come back to the pub. His hair and uniform were a mess; he had jumped a few fences and raced through a part of Fror Riordan’s field. That’s where the Akhlat had surprisingly abandoned the chase, more interested in the shepherd’s sheep than in Kíli.

Poor animals…

All eyes turned to him when he barged into the crowded tap room. Nori was taking care of her little sister, and Thorin was here as well. Kíli was about to sigh in relief when he noticed Fíli’s absence. Thorin’s eyes widened as he realised the same thing.

“Isn’t Fíli with you?”

“I thought he was here! Where has he gone?”

Thorin ran nervous hands in his hair.

“He was worried about you when I came back with Ori, so… He went out to look for you.”

“Oh no…. No!!! He’s drunk! I can’t let him be outside by himself!”

With these words, Kíli rushed out into the rain again.

His heart was racing. Fíli… less than two days ago, he didn’t know him. The blond Garda’s arrival had turned his life upside down on more than one account. He just couldn’t leave him behind. If something had happened to him, Kíli would never forgive himself.

“FÍLI! WHERE ARE YOU? ANSWER ME!”

Slipping on the squashed corpses littering the ground, Kíli searched the outskirts of the pub’s façade, anxiety growing within him every passing second. He was about to turn towards the kitchen entrance when Fíli appeared on the other side, dragging what seemed to be a large animal. A pony…? Or an oversized dog, maybe. Molly! Yes, it was Molly, Alfrid’s Irish wolfhound.

Shaking from sheer relief, Kíli rushed towards Fíli and embraced him in a bone crushing hug.

“Fíli… I thought I’d lost you!”

He released the blond only to grab him by the shoulders and check his body.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I’m ok.”

Silence settled for a brief instant. Drenched with rain, his ever neat hair now dishevelled, Fíli looked so vulnerable that Kíli felt the urgent need to protect him from harm, for now and ever.

But he decided to bury that need deep inside his mind and focus on their mission. He took a deep breath, to remain as calm as possible. Panicking would be bad.

“We shouldn’t stay outside. The Akhlat’s away but he’ll come back. Come.” Addressing the dog, Kíli clicked his tongue. “Come on, Molly.”

A loud snarl behind them made the Gardai freeze. Molly whimpered and clung to Kíli.

“Inside! NOW!”

Kíli’s shout spurred the trio into action. They bolted and crashed through the pub’s door, closing it just before it got hit by a large tentacle.

The atmosphere in Dwalin’s tavern was electric. Drunk dwarves and elves were shouting, demanding an explanation, and some, like Ori, were sobbing. In vain, Thorin was trying to calm them down.

The Gardai and Molly’s arrival made everybody shut up. A powerful bang on the door made everyone gasp in terror. Then, panic and mayhem took over Dwalin’s bar.

“Everybody upstairs, NOW!” yelled Kíli.

Dwalin hurried to open the door leading to the stairs, pushing and manhandling those who were too slow. Angry roars and growls resounded from outside. Deafening blows made the walls tremble, and suddenly, the main window was smashed. A colossal tentacle fell through the breach and reduced the wooden counter to splinters before letting dozens of its hungry offspring invade the place.

“Come on, come on! Keep moving!”

Dwalin guided the last persons to the stairs, Kíli, Fíli and Molly closing the group, and slammed the door shut behind him.

*~~~~*

Dwarves and elves huddled together in the attic. The ceiling too low for even most of the dwarves. It was dark in here, a single lightbulb casting a weak yellow glow over the middle of the large room.

Dwalin was prostrated in a corner, his bravado vanquished. Nori was by his side, desperately trying to hold it together, one arm around her sniffling sister. Balin was standing next to his little brother, looking as if he was intending to shield his much larger brother.

“What in the name of fuck … in the name of Mahal was that?” he whispered.

“A …” Dwalin sighed, trying to pull himself together. “Feck if I know.”

Fíli was scratching Molly’s fur, calming himself more than the still whimpering dog.

As Kíli was busy trying to bar the door with a wooden plank, Bilbo patted Thorin’s sides.

“I was worried,” he whispered. “That was foolhardy, rushing out like that.”

Thorin looked dazed. “I … Somebody had to save Ori, and I am not drunk.”

“That’s why YOU shouldn’t go out,” Bilbo hissed. “You have no protection.”

The loud snarling from downstairs shut everybody up. With a thud, the plank fell in place, blocking the door. Kíli turned to the islanders.

“Everybody ok? Yeah? Stay calm. Just stay calm. Has anybody been hurt?”

An elf burst into tears. Kíli rolled his eyes, while everybody else chorused “no.”

“Good. And you won’t be, ‘cos of the alcohol you’ve been drinking. This might sound crazy but … they’re allergic to drunk people.” He chuckled unexpectedly, earning him some puzzled stares. Puzzled was good. Better than panicked.

“There’s no need to panic.”

Of course, as soon as he uttered the word “panic” Ori started crying loudly, shushed by Nori.

“We’re safe up here,” he said as gently as possible. “Let’s stay away from the windows, though. I think it’s best.” He searched for Fíli. Their eyes met above the shaggy fur of the shaking Molly. Fíli smiled weakly.

“We’re going to be fine,” Kíli said, this time addressing only Fíli. The blond dwarf nodded.

A loud bang made everybody jump. Dwalin took a deep breath and edged to the window. He pushed the dingy old curtain aside.

“It’s swinging one of Fror Riordan’s sheep at the door,” he reported, almost apologetic.

“My cat does that with mice and then leaves it on the doorstep as a present,” Fíli remarked absentmindedly.

Bofur turned round to him. “It’s the bitch!” he exclaimed triumphantly. “A mating ritual!”

They all stared at him. “The female. It’s following her scent. Didn’t she slime you in the lab, Kíli?”

Kíli sniffed at his jacket and pulled a face. “What does that mean?”

Bilbo started giggling uncontrollably. “It’ll try to mount you somehow. Failing that, it’ll rip you limb from limb in frustration.” He looked up at Thorin’s horrified face and sobered. “Sorry.”

Kíli just shook his head in irritation. “Grand. That’s just grand. What can I do?”

Meanwhile Dwalin had found a breath test in his pocket and pulled it out. Almost absentmindedly he blew into it. Thorin noticed what he was doing.

“What’s your reading?”

“Too drunk to drive a car, but not drunk enough. We’re sobering up.”

Molly whined at that moment, pressing her massive body against Fíli.

Dwalin looked out again. “Can we push it off a cliff or something?”

The Akhlat snarled, and Dwalin hastily backed away from the window.

Meanwhile, Kíli paced around the light bulb, scowling fiercely. The awed islanders made space for him, sensing that their survival depended very much on their alcoholic garda.Thorin, their rational mayor, seemed much more concerned with calming the resident hobbit down.

“Ok,” Kíli said finally. “We know it does two things. It drinks blood, and it needs water. We took away one. We can take away the other.”

Nori raised her braided eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“We need to keep it away from water. Dry it out somehow.”

Bofur scoffed. “Look outside, lad.”

The fisherman was ignored. “There’s got to be some way we can stop it. Fight fire with fire.”

Fíli stared at a pair of old boots with dried mud sitting on a beam.

Then he brightened. “The thing!” he declared triumphantly.

“What?” Kíli tried to keep his voice polite.

Fíli waved his hands wildly. “The fecking thing at Cooney’s site. What’s it called?”

Thorin seemed to catch on. “The grabber?”

Pleased that somebody understood, Fíli nodded.

“Yeah, exactly! With that thing, you could grab it, and you could just lift it up, and you could just hoist it up and leave it there and trap it, and it’d be stuck in the air and then the sun will… And then the sun will come up and it’ll be dry and that’ll dry it out!”

Kíli looked at Fíli with wonder, beaming at him.

“Dwalin, have you got the keys to your truck?”

His godfather looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “No, they’d be on the kitchen table.”

Why would anyone grab their keys while running away from a monster?

Kíli still beamed at Fíli.

“I need them.”

Fíli smiled back, dimples deep in the poor glow of the light bulb.

Thorin, however, stood in front of Kíli, glaring at his nephew.

“You’re sober. You can’t be going down there. Those things will rip your head off. I’ll not have you down there.”

Dwalin nodded. “He’s right. You can’t go back down, Kíli, it’s too dangerous.”

“You mightn’t get past them.” Bofur tugged sagely at his ponytail. “But I know someone who could.” He looked at Fíli. Kíli moved to put his hand on Fíli’s shoulder.

“Absolutely not! No. Bofur, you go, You’re the drunkest person we’ve got. You go.”

“Feck off. Dwalin should go then. It’s his pub.”

“I suppose I could.” Dwalin pulled himself off to his full height, squaring his shoulders.

Nori snarled, more savage even than the monster. “Your arse you’re going.” Nori looked at Fíli. “You’re pickled. You fucking go.”

Fíli nodded, gently pushing Kíli’s hand off his shoulder. “I’m going to go.”
“No,” Kíli reiterated. “It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s not.” Fíli smiled again, patting Kíli just as he had patted Molly seconds before. “I’m gonna go, ‘cos I’m the best drunken guard that this country’s ever seen, you said it yourself. I’m just gonna get the keys. It’s gonna be grand. I’m your knight in shiny golden armour.” He laughed, fluffing his hair.

Kíli sighed in defeat and turned to open the door.

Thorin, meanwhile, armed the nail gun and handed it to Fíli.

“If you get in trouble, pull the trigger.”

“Savage!” Fíli grinned, waving the gun around. With a thud, a nail buried itself in the wall, pinning Bofur’s hat to it.

“You missed,” Nori tutted.

“Feck off,” Bofur huffed, ripping his hat away. Bombur patted his bare head, making sure her big brother was really as uninjured as he looked.

“Just get the keys,” Kíli whispered to Fíli. “I’ll do the rest.”

Fíli nodded, looking a bit contrite. “Got it. Just the keys. I’ll be all right.”

“I hope so.” Kíli took a deep breath. “All right, go!”

Fíli took a step backwards and plummeted all the way down the stairs which had been right behind him.

“Mahal!”

Fíli sat on his bottom and waved the nail gun cheerfully.

“I’m okay!”

“Shush!” Kíli gestured frantically. “Shush. Keep your voice down.”

Bofur shook his head. “He’s a goner.”

The fierce look Kíli shot him had the fisherman hide behind his sister.

Thorin looked towards the window.

“How are you going to get to the truck?”

“You know me.” Kíli smiled at his uncle. “I run very fast.”

“Well, you’re not that fast.”

“You’ll need a decoy!” Bilbo suggested. The hobbit was still white around his nose, but his voice was more composed. “If it’s you it wants, we’ll give it what it wants. We’ll make a dummy of you, dress it up as bait.”

“It’s gonna confuse the shite clean out of it,” Bofur chortled from his safe spot.

“How are we gonna make a dummy?” Dwalin yelped when Nori hit him on the shoulder.

“Improvise, you oaf. Leave that to me.”

Chapter Text

Among the rubble that formerly had been the tavern’s bay window and counter, a flock of tiny swarming monsters was having fun. They seemed to take great pleasure in smashing glasses and knocking over tables. Some of the little beasts were fighting their siblings. Maybe the lack of food was turning them into cannibals?

Swaying slightly in the doorway, Fíli beheld the gruesome spectacle in silence but didn’t hold back a disgusted grimace. How could these little hideous varmints become such gigantic monstrosities?

As cautiously as possible, the Garda tried to sneak through the tap room unseen. But the more he tried to focus on his balance, the more he tripped over broken glass. Gritting his teeth, Fíli muttered to himself: “Focus. The keys. Go to the kitchen. You can do it.”

On his way through the bar, Fili grabbed a handful of peanuts and shoved them into his mouth. He was thirsty, he was hungry; he just wanted to find those damned keys and hurry back to the others. To Kíli.

The door leading to the kitchen was just behind the counter, or what was left of it. Fíli tried to step over the debris but something pulled at his foot, making him stumble. One of those oversized slugs had locked its tiny sharp teeth into his foot. More annoyed than frightened, Fíli shook and jerked his leg to get rid of the little parasite.

With a last jerk of his leg, Fíli sent the little monster flying across the room. It landed on the old juke box with a faint thud and loud music suddenly blared through the bar. Fíli froze and winced.

There is an inn, a merry old inn

beneath an old grey hill,

And there they brew a beer so brown

That the Man in the Moon himself came down one night to drink his fill.

*~~~~*

Fíli closed the door quietly and tiptoed into the kitchen, glad to leave the ravenous babies behind him.

It was hard to see in the faint light from the lamps outside. He did not dare switch on the lights and draw attention.

No keys on the kitchen table. No keys on the sideboard. He looked into the drawers. No keys, but dangerous looking knives in protective sheaths. Fíli tucked two into his belt.

He began to panic. Where are those stupid keys?

No keys on the floor. But Bofur’s bottle of Poitín and a windproof lighter. He crouched down to pocket the Poitín. He flicked on the lighter.

Peering around he spotted the blasted keys under the sideboard, glinting very faintly. Finally!

He could hear the crashing of the baby Akhlats wrecking the tap room and the thuds outside of the father prowling around the pub.

Flattening himself on the sticky floor, Fíli stretched out his arm. Of course these keys had to slide right to the back. But giving up was not an option. Too much depended on this. The edge of the sideboard cut painfully into his shoulder, but he pulled them out.

Just as he had put the precious keys in his pocket, the door creaked. Fíli tried to turn around. Caught his arm in the sideboard. With a resounding boom the door splintered. Two large tentacles fell heavily into the kitchen. Slowly, they crept towards Fíli.

He screamed and tried to fire the nail gun at the monster, but his body was still twisted and a nail hit the fuse box instead. A tiny lighting bolt illuminated the kitchen before darkness descended. Without the lights from outside, the kitchen was pitch black. Fíli scrambled backwards towards the taproom. He heard the tentacles move around behind him.

Screams came from the attic, Molly barking, Kíli shouting “Calm down!”

Remembering the lighter in his hand, Fíli managed to flick it on while running.

He had no time to be proud. Something curled around his right ankle and he crashed to the floor.

Fíli grabbed the door jamb with his free hand, stupidly holding on to the lighter with the other. It illuminated his knuckles turning white around the wood, and then the Akhlat gave one ferocious tug and Fíli lost his grip.

As he desperately looked for something else to hold on to, Fíli did not notice the puddle of Poitín on the floor until the flame of his lighter had ignited it. The flame spread rapidly, singeing Fíli’s moustache before he was dragged further towards the door.

“Fire!” he yelled on reflex. “Fire!”

The pub’s fire alarm began to ring, piercing through Fíli’s skull. Evidently, Dwalin and Nori had neglected to install sprinklers.

Something metallic glinted red, reflecting the fire. One of Dwalin’s axes. Fíli let go of the lighter, grabbed the axe and in one fluid movement hacked the tentacle off. Blood splattered the wall.

With a surprised huff, Fíli fell onto his face. The Akhlat roared, retreating into the darkness.

With some difficulty, Fíli got back onto his feet and ran, grabbing the axe in one hand, a knife in the other. One of his knees was throbbing with pain, but sheer stubbornness kept him going.

*~~~~*

After feeling around in the dark, Nori had found flashlights and it had helped calming people down. The fire alarm was still ringing; dwarves and elves were covering their ears, Molly was whimpering, hiding her head under a heap of spare cloth that had been dragged out for the dummy.

Kíli had given his uniform jacket to Bilbo, and the dummy was now complete. Pricking his ears, the dwarf tried to hear what was going on downstairs, but all he could catch above the blaring alarm noise were faint thuds and muffled crash sounds. His concern about Fíli was growing every passing second. I shouldn’t have let him go! He’ll die down there and it will be my fault!

A faint smell of smoke permeated the air. Dwalin walked to the attic’s door, followed by Kíli.

Thick black smoke almost choked the two dwarves as they opened the door. High flames were licking the walls at the bottom of the stairs. Kíli paled.

“Fíli! FILI!!!”

No answer.

Kíli had to think hard and fast. And not panic. “Is there another way down?”

Dwalin shook his head, a deep frown on his face.

“There has to be another way! I can’t leave Fíli down there, I can’t!” Kíli ran both hands in his hair and tugged as if doing this would give him an answer. “He’ll die and it’ll be my fault!”

Nori’s face lit up. “Kíli! I know a way! But it’s dangerous as hell…”

“Tell me, Nori, what way?”

“You could get out through the front window, and climb down the drainpipe.”

The Garda took less than two seconds to decide if it was a good idea or not. He had to do it!

He was about to rush to the front window when Bilbo grabbed his arm.

“What is it, Bilbo?”

Ignoring Kíli’s impatient tone, the hobbit simply put the flare gun in his hand. “For safety.”

Kíli nodded briefly and patted Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Be careful,” Thorin whispered .

Kíli cast a last glance at his fellow islanders, checked quickly for immediate danger, and climbed out.

Silence settled in the attic. Dwarves and elves were looking at each other, all wondering if their Garda would make it alive. Molly pressed herself against Ori, the frightened little dwarrowdam holding on to the dog like a lifeline.

They all flinched a little when Nori declared she had finally finished the dummy.

The dwarrowdam looked pensively at it and mumbled “I don’t think it’s scary enough, though.”

Bofur glared at her. “Stop faffing about and bring it over to the window. It’s not a bleedin’ beauty contest, Nori, it’s a scarecrow!”

A loud bang made the wall vibrate and everyone jumped and yelled in surprise. One second later, the Akhlat glued its mouth to the window. Rooted to the spot, the islanders witnessed the gruesome spectacle of the monster sucking the glass in search of its mate.  Frustrated by the presence of the panel blocking its way, the beast growled and snarled, calling its female. Terror took over the attic.

From the other side of the pub, Kíli was slowly making his way from one window to another when he heard the bloodcurdling screams coming from inside. The drainpipe wasn’t far, but the slippery metal was treacherous under his feet and the pouring rain wasn’t helping.

I’m not gonna make it…

Despite the howling wind, Kíli heard something crawling his way. Suddenly, a tentacle crashed into the wall  just above his head. The dwarf looked up and his heart skipped a beat.

He didn’t see his life flash before his eyes, no. He didn’t have the time.

Arriving at full speed, Dwalin’s pick-up truck skidded to a halt just beneath Kíli. Fíli honked.

Looking up, Kíli could see the Akhlat looming over the pub’s window, on the roof now with his tentacles searching the front of the pub. He didn’t dare to breathe.

The rain was pounding on the roof, but Kíli still heard the thud of something from the rear of the building. The dummy. Nori must have thrown the dummy. The tentacles retreated, as the Akhlat jumped from the roof to the back of the pub.

“Come on, for fuck’s sake!” Fíli shouted from below, and Kíli jumped. The impact hurt, but he had no time to dwell on the pain shooting up his legs.

“Go, Fíli, go!!!!”

High on adrenaline, Fíli made the truck turn and stepped on the accelerator. The vehicle dashed forward and Kíli held onto the rear panels for dear life.

Behind them, they heard a loud roar. A piece of the dummy narrowly missed Kíli’s head.

The Akhlat was after them.

*~~~~*

Inside the attic, the islanders cheered in relief. The monster was gone.

“Don’t just stand there!” Nori shouted at them. “Move your fecking arses, we’re evacuating!”

Wisps of black smoke were curling from under the door now. Some people started to whimper and one dwarf shouted: “We’re all going to burn!”

Molly was barking at the smoke, the dog’s agitation spiralling dwarves and elves further into a panic.

“Shut up!” Thorin ordered. “We’re going to make it out!”

Everyone obeyed. Molly tucked her tail in and slouched into a corner followed by Ori.

Bilbo, meanwhile, had quietly taken some leftover rags from the dummy preparation and used them to stuff the gaps in the door to keep the smoke out of the attic.

Dwalin and Nori began to pull out the spare mattresses they kept in the attic. They were difficult to squeeze through the window, but with the help of Thorin and a couple of elves they managed.

Bofur eyed the proceedings with suspicion. “Are you seriously expecting us to jump out of the window?”

“Unless you wish to walk through fire, yes.” Dwalin glared at him, already helping Ori onto the window ledge. The little dwarrowdam was shivering, but Nori insisted on saving her little sister first.

“I’m not going to jump!” Bofur protested.

“Shut your gob,” Bombur advised him. She lifted her brother up and threw him out of the window.

Others followed. There was some difficulty with Molly, the dog had run to the other side of the attic when she watched people jump. Finally, two dwarves dragged her out and a tall elf took the struggling dog into her arms and jumped before Molly could free herself.

When Bilbo stepped up to the window, Thorin stopped him. They were the last ones.

“You’re more fragile than either a dwarf or an elf!” He protested.

“So what do you want me to do? Burn alive so I don’t break a dainty bone?”

“No …” Thorin looked to the window. “Let me jump first.”

“Of all the pigheaded …” Bilbo didn’t have time to ask why.

Thorin jumped and when Bilbo looked out again, he found Thorin standing with outstretched arms on the mattress, ready to catch the hobbit. Bilbo rolled his eyes. If Thorin was that keen on having his arms broken by a falling hobbit, so be it. He could hear the fire crackling on the staircase, the crashing of the steps collapsing into the fire.

Bilbo jumped.

Thorin’s arms slowed the impact before they both tumbled onto the mattress, Bilbo rolling on top of the dwarf.

They stared at each other, stunned from the fall and the proximity.

“Just kiss already!”

Nori’s voice brought them back to the present. The rain had abated a bit, but it was still drizzling down on them while they were laying in each other’s arms on a mattress, surrounded by the inhabitants of the island. Who now relieved their tension by laughing at the couple in their midst.

They hurriedly got up.

“Where can we go now?” Ori sobered them all up.

They were out of the burning pub, but there was still a monster on the island. Just because it had run after the two guards didn’t mean it wouldn’t come back.

“The temple,” Balin said. “It is the strongest building on the island, erected by our forefathers as a temple and a fortress when …”

“Educate us another time!” Dwalin advised his brother. “Everyone - to the temple, quick!”

Even the elves complied. They also remembered to drag the dog with them.

*~~~~*

Fíli was careening along the island’s bumpy main road at full speed, keeping the Akhlat at a distance. He didn’t slow down when Elladan’s building site came into view. The area was flooded with lamplight. Nobody had been back to switch them off.

On the back of the truck, Kíli began to feel slightly sick. He pounded against the little back window, trying to get his colleague’s attention.

“Stop now. Fíli, stop anywhere. Ok, you can stop now. Fíli! Fíli, stop now! Stop!”

He was nearly thrown over the roof when Fíli crashed the truck into a giant heap of sand.

“We’re here!” Fíli shouted joyously as he jumped out, beaming at Kíli.

The other Garda had to take a deep breath. “Mahal, you’re dangerous!”

Fíli didn’t appear to hear him. “Come on, quickly now!” A sudden realisation spread over the blond’s face. “Hey, it’s stopped raining.”

“Yes.” Kíli rubbed his damp hands on his trousers. “How long do you think it’ll take to dry out?”

“I don’t know.” Fíli looked around the drenched ground. “A couple of hours?”

“Too long. Bollocks. Where’s the crane?”

The sound of squishing and thwacking made them turn around. The Akhlat was rolling on his tentacles, just at the bottom of the site.

“Shit!”

Fíli paled. “What are we gonna do now?”

They both looked around, trying to come up with something to stop the monster, while backing up.

Already turning, Kíli pointed to the far end of the site, where there was a large and deep pit filled with rusty barrels and waste, towered by high metal storage sheds.

“Ok, I’m thinking that if I can get it over there….”

“We’re not ready! - Hey, wait!”

“We can’t wait! Run!”

Fíli grabbed Kílis sleeve. “Give me the keys!”

“What keys?”

“Elladan’s keys!”

“There - Go! Run!!”

The crane was towering over the sand heap and Fíli scrambled up.

The Akhlat had nearly reached them. Kíli ran as fast he could into the other direction, nearly falling into the big pit. He caught himself just in time.

On the other side were the containers, rusty and old, but they might just be enough to shelter him.

A narrow footbridge was the only way to get there.

Kíli slithered on the wet metal. The bridge creaked.

He heard the Akhlat just behind him when he noticed a big gap in the middle of the passage .

Bloody Elladan. He’d been such a slob. That should have been repaired right away. Health and safety at work, very important.

Kíli took a deep breath. No distractions now. He swayed when the tentacles of the monster took hold of the rails of the bridge. Kíli jumped.

He howled when his upper body collided with the unstable metal structure. He was dangling over the pit, sharp ridges were biting into his hand as he held onto the makeshift planks.

The clang of the first part of the bridge collapsing vibrated through his body as he hoisted himself up.

Pain shot up from his hands and ribcage. He backed towards the containers.

On the other side of the pit, the Akhlat growled, curling and uncurling its tentacles, just a little too short to reach.

Kíli took out the flare gun Bilbo had handed him.

“Come on, you boggin bastard. Just a little closer ….” he muttered.

There were barrels adorned with the “flammable” warning label at the bottom of the pit.

Kíli took aim at them, before yelling: “What are you waiting for? Come on! Come and get me!”

When the Akhlat made no move he muttered. “Come on, you smelly bastard. You know you want to.”

Grabbing the edge of the pit with its tentacles, the Akhlat swayed for a moment. It stilled.

Its tongue propelled forward, gripping Kili around the chest. And pulled. Kíli tried to hold onto the container behind him, the hand with the gun tugging at the slimy white tongue.

Just as he tipped into the pit, he was released, tumbling down three metres into the dark hole. The flare gun clattered against something and vanished out of reach.

Illuminated by the floodlights from behind, the Akhlat towered above the pit. It snarled as it seemed to consider the idea of climbing down the slope.

Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. As the Akhlat moved, a ray of light fell onto some planks near Kíli. The metal of the flare gun glinted invitingly. He crawled closer, curling his fingers around the grip. He aimed at the barrels again, his hand shaking.

The Akhlat was still at the top of the pit, but a tentacle slithered close to Kíli. He screamed.

Just then, the monster backed away. The deep roaring of a motor was approaching.

The excavator rumbled as Fíli drove it towards the monster at top speed.

“Get away from him, you cuuuuunt!!!!!”

With a thump he collided into the Akhlat, pushing it down the slope and pinning it to the ground of the pit as the excavator slid down behind the creature.

Fíli was laughing hysterically. Kíli punched the flare gun into the air with a loud cheer.

But tentacles were still flailing.

Spotting a ladder, Kíli gingerly got up and limped towards it. Fíli had some difficulty getting out of the excavator. Vehicle and ground were slippery from the downpour, it was hard to find a grip.

He made it before Kíli, who groaned in pain as he climbed up.

He appeared to slip, the ladder was rickety and slippery from the rain. Fíli kneeled at the edge and stretched out his arm towards the other dwarf.

“Kíli! Grab my hand!”

Kíli stared at him for a moment, swaying on the ladder. Then he managed to take off one hand and quickly grabbed Fíli’s. He gasped in pain when Fíli hauled him up, his injured ribs complaining.

But once he was up, lying next to Fíli on the ground, both laughed in relief, while the trapped monster still snarled and thrashed its tentacles in a vain attempt to free itself.

High on adrenaline even more than the alcohol remaining in his blood, Fíli pulled out Bofur’s bottle.

“I think this calls for a celebration!”

Kíli stared at the bottle. It was so tempting. Getting drunk.

He was reaching out just as he felt a heavy weight curling around his chest. The Akhlat had found him. It dragged Kíli back towards the pit.

“NO!” Fíli yelled, jumping forward to grab Kíli’s hand. They both knew it was futile, even injured the monster was too strong. Kíli tore the bottle from Fíli’s hand just before he was lifted into the air.

“Kíli!”

The Garda was hanging in the air as the tentacle slowly moved him toward the Akhlat’s open mouth. There was still a chance. He uncorked Bofur’s bottle.

“ Sláinte, you bastard!”

With a flourish, he poured the poitín into the Akhlat’s mouth.

The creature shrieked and squirmed, flailing its tentacles before flinging Kíli away.

“Kíli!”

Fíli sprinted towards the other dwarf, who had landed flat on his stomach with a groan. He turned him onto his back, patting him frantically.

“Are you ok? Are you ok? Kíli?”

Kíli gave the other dwarf a weak smile. “He couldn’t handle his drink.” He tried to chuckle but it hurt.

A grunt from the monster stilled Fíli. Then he opened Kíli’s coat with determination. Kíli tried to stop his hands.

“What are you doing?”

Fíli didn’t answer. He had found what he was looking for. The flare gun. He jumped up again and walked to the edge of the pit, looking out for stray tentacles.

The Akhlat roared, getting louder in its attempt to appear threatening.

It was still trapped and barely able to lift its tentacles above the ground. But they had been deceived before. Fíli took a deep breath and raised the flare gun.

“Shut your hole!”

Aware of the dwarf, the monster growled again. Fíli aimed at the barrels stored in the pit and fired.

The burning projectile hit its target with a hiss.

The explosion that followed was more violent than expected and its blast wave threw Fíli backwards. He tumbled to the ground, landing nearly atop of Kíli.

They covered their ears, sure that the detonation could be heard all the way to the mainland. High flames lit up the dying night. Dawn would be here soon.

In the silence that followed they could hear a faint squealing coming from below. It faded as the Akhlat finally drew its last growling breath.

Chapter Text

Dawn was flooding the temple with soft, rosy light. Just minutes earlier, a loud explosion had roused the islanders, who had just started to doze off on the benches.

Bilbo was sitting on the stairs leading to Balin’s pulpit with Thorin. The mayor was too tense to nod off; his nephew was out there fighting a monster. And Thorin was hiding like a coward. He should have been out there, helping his nephew. But Bilbo was leaning against him, valiantly fighting off his own drowsiness.

Thorin put his arm around him. To support the hobbit, he told himself. Bilbo lifted his head, smiling sleepily.

“That explosion. Do you reckon they did it?”

Thorin nodded with some determination. “They have to.”

Bilbo pushed himself upright, using Thorin’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Let’s go outside,” he said. “You’re worried. From here we might be able to spot them.”

The view from the temple was the best on the island. An eerie silence surrounded them. The only sound were the seagulls in the distance and Molly’s excited panting when she had followed them outside. No rain, no fire alarm, no roaring monster.

They could see smoke over Elladan’s construction site.

“We’d need an elf here, with their sight,” Bilbo remarked.

Thorin grimaced. “Bloody elves.”

“Now, now …” Bilbo stopped himself. Now was not the time. “I think I see something moving on the road.”

“Might be a trick of the light.” Thorin squinted.

“Or two dwarves walking slowly,” Bilbo argued.

*~~~~*

Dwalin’s truck was well and truly smashed into the sand. The serpentine road leading to the pier seemed endless in the rising sun. The island looked peaceful - if they didn’t look back.

Fíli was still feeling drunk as he and Kíli made their way back down the road. His head hurt and he felt like his tongue was made out of dry cardboard.

The two dwarves had inhaled more of the fumes than they should have, and their clothes were covered in mud. Next to Fíli, Kíli was still limping from his injury.

Ever so often, they jostled into each other. That was oddly pleasant.

Suddenly, Fíli remembered something. He still had Kíli’s flask! He pulled it out of his pocket with a wobbly flourish.

“Here.”

Kíli squinted at it, then he took it and flung it away into the grass.

Fíli smiled at him, and their arms brushed as they walked a few paces. Then Kíli laughed unexpectedly.

“Shouldn’t have done that!”

He faked turning around, and Fíli laughingly caught his arm.

“Just kidding, I should.”

“Yes.” Fíli smiled, not letting go of Kíli’s arm. “I am thinking of taking some time off, actually.”

“You could stay here,” Kíli suggested.

“Erebor, home of the Akhlats,” Fíli chuckled. “That’s going to be quite the attraction.”

“It’s going to be mental around here. I’ll need all the help I can get.”

Fíli leaned into him. Kíli put his free arm around Fíli’s waist and they stopped walking, just looked at each other in the rosy morning light.

And then Fíli rose on his toes and captured Kíli’s lips in a kiss. Kíli squeaked in surprise, but then he put his arms firmly around Fíli, holding him steady.

They were still heady with excitement, giddy with being alive and their first kiss was messy, uncoordinated and the best they had ever felt in their life.

Not even the best kiss could last forever. They released each other, but still stood in wonder for several heartbeats. Kíli took Fíli’s hand.

“Wanna get some breakfast and let them know we’re alive?”

“Yum! Yes, let’s do this!”

They walked hand in hand. The way was still long, but the going seemed so much easier now.

It was some time later that they saw a tall animal and two figures standing next to the temple, waving at them from the top of a hill.

One was quite clearly a hobbit, the other had to be Thorin. They waved back. The figures moved to the path leading down. Good.

Neither Kíli nor Fíli felt ready to walk up a bloody hill, so they waited at the bottom. From there, they could see the smoke still coming from the pub. Kíli grimaced.

“Dwalin’s not gonna serve us breakfast.”

Fíli couldn’t help giggling. “All my stuff was in there too.”

“I’ll have to take you home then.”

The implication of that still hung between them, when Thorin and Molly hurried towards them, Bilbo several paces behind. The dog assaulted Fíli with enthusiastic licks across his face and excited yapping.

Thorin pulled his nephew into a fierce hug.

“You made it!”

“The monster’s gone.” Kíli smiled and this time he hugged his uncle back despite his aching ribs.

“Thank Mahal.”  Thorin released him and beamed. “I am so proud of you.”

Kíli felt his smile wobble. He couldn’t answer, so he was grateful when Fíli put a hand on his back.

“You should be, he was brilliant!”

“Fíli was brilliant too,” Kíli protested. He never lost his voice for long. “Can you tell the others that it’s safe to go home? Fíli and I are going to my place. All his stuff was in the pub.”

“You need the sleep, as do we all.” Thorin was still smiling. “Don’t worry about anything, Kíli, I’ll tell the islanders and I’ll make the phone calls to the mainland. Leave it all to me.”

“Thank you.”

Thorin hugged Kíli again, and just as Bilbo had reached them, he informed the hobbit that they were going to go back up. Bilbo looked slightly put-out, but he managed to reassure the two Gardai that he was truly happy to see them alive and fairly well, before Thorin grabbed his shoulders and turned him around.

Molly looked towards Thorin, and then back to Fíli and Kíli. Then she turned back to Fíli, leaning against the dwarf who had saved her.

*~~~~*

As Thorin and Bilbo walked up to the temple again, Bilbo looked at the dwarf beside him. Thorin was still smiling. While he was always a handsome man, his happiness made him positively stunning.

“All is well, then,” he remarked to break the silence. He nearly took a step backwards when Thorin looked down at him, still smiling.

“Yes. It is over. And Kíli survived.”

“Shame about the research though,” Bilbo mumbled. “They’re going to take the remains of the creatures to the mainland, aren’t they?”

“I would think so.” Thorin’s smile faltered a bit and he put his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“I will talk to the university to use their influence. You have started the research on this, after all.”

“Thank you.” Bilbo felt quite flustered and looked away. “I mean, maybe some more capable ...”

“Stop right there,” Thorin admonished him. “You are the most capable marine ecologist out there.”

Bilbo felt his ears burning as he blushed.“You … you really think so. But … you always … I mean, I had the distinct impression, you didn’t approve of my research.”

He heard Thorin sigh. “I was against the research lab here, yes. I thought it would not suit your potential.”

“Ah. And that’s also why you ignored me while I was here? You never came to visit, you know.”

“Well ….”

The shyness in Thorin’s voice gave Bilbo’s confidence a much needed boost. He turned to Thorin, smirking.

“You were trying to protect me all night. And about what Alfrid said, he said the way you look at me …”

“Well …” He had the pleasure to actually see a blush creeping above Thorin’s beard and tinging his cheeks and ears. “It would be quite inappropriate, so I …” Thorin huffed when he saw Bilbo’s smirk. “Are you aware that you called me handsome when you were intoxicated?”

“Well …” Bilbo shrugged. “That’s a scientific observation.”

But he took Thorin’s hand, and Thorin squeezed it so hard Bilbo gave a little shriek.

“Sorry.” Thorin didn’t release his hand, but he eased his grip.

“So that’s sorted then?” Bilbo asked.

“I believe it is.” Thorin was smiling again and Bilbo obligingly tilted his head up, when Thorin bent down.

Their kiss was fleeting; islanders were to be told to go home to their own beds, the government needed to be informed about the events. Thorin would need to catch the first ferry to the mainland, but he was quite sure he wouldn’t be alone.

*~~~~*

Fíli, Kíli and Molly walked to Kíli’s house in silence. The dwarves were so exhausted they just felt as if everything that had happened during the night was unreal. Still, their mudcaked uniforms and the numerous scratches and bruises they sported were a vivid reminder of their fight against  a giant sea monster… and they won. They had fought a living nightmare, and lived to tell the tale. But for now, all they wanted to do was sleep.

The house was like Kíli had left it forty eight hours, or an eternity, ago. The dust and his usual mess were still there, and a slight musty smell hung in the air. Beside the couch in his living room, a trash can filled with empty whisky bottles bore the evidence of all those nights when alcohol had been his only companion.

Fíli saw the heap of bottles but walked past it without mentioning it. The adrenaline of the night’s action was long gone, and he was sporting his very first hangover.

The young Garda felt like trash. The morning light hurt his eyes and the pain radiated through his head as well. A faint wave of nausea made his stomach lurch. He tried to sit down but rather fell onto the couch and whined miserably.

“I’ll never drink again.”

Kíli chuckled. “Everybody says that the first time. And every time after.”

“Thanks. It’s really comforting. Eurgh, I feel like my head will explode.”

Kíli disappeared in his room for a few moments. He tossed a few clothes at Fíli when he came back and proposed to cook some breakfast while Fíli would take a shower.

“It’ll help you to feel human again,” Kíli said with a wink.

Once in the small shower cubicle, Fíli closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cool tiling. Letting the hot water run on his body and seeing all the dirt of the night’s fight going through the drain soothed him.

Fíli washed his hair and body thoroughly and stepped out of the shower only when he felt clean enough. Kíli had lent him sweatpants, socks, and a long sleeved t-shirt. The clothes were too long and a bit too tight for Fíli’s frame, but he was grateful to wear fresh clean garments.

“There’s a new toothbrush under the sink if you want!” shouted Kíli from the kitchen.

Mahal, yes! A refreshed breath and clean teeth would be highly appreciated. (His mouth felt as if he had tried to eat a pair of old, woollen socks.)

When Fíli entered the kitchen Kíli had laid the table, switched on the coffee maker, and had cooked a meagre breakfast with the few items he had in his almost empty refrigerator and cabinets: eggs and beans on toast.

“I wish I could give you more than that, sorry,” said Kíli with a feeble smile while handing Fili paracetamol pills with a glass of tap water.

“Oh, don’t worry. After the night we lived, anything’s grand.”

“Do you think Molly can eat stew? I don’t have dog food.”

The dog was wagging her tail enthusiastically enough to reassure Kíli and she devoured the bowl of stew in minutes. The dwarves looked at her fondly while eating and drinking in comfortable silence, too worn out to talk.

When they were finished, Fíli gathered the dishes and put them in the sink to wash them. Kíli put a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Dishes can wait. You need to rest. Lie down while I take a shower, ok?”

Fíli nodded and went to the living room, followed by Molly who was in need of head scratches.

When Kíli came back from the bathroom, Fíli and Molly were sound asleep on the couch, both snoring peacefully. This vision filled him with an unexpected feeling of happiness. He had no idea how his relationship with Fíli would evolve, but he wanted to keep this serene moment engraved in his memory.

Without thinking, the dwarf knelt down and pushed Fíli’s still damp hair from his face before tenderly kissing his brow which caused a small frown and a nose crinkle.

Smiling, Kíli went to bed. He fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

When he woke up a few hours later, Kíli wondered if he had dreamt the last two days and events. Vanquishing a monster, staying sober… kissing Fíli in the sunrise.

Fíli. Would he still like him after sobering up?

A wave of concern and anxiety washed over the dwarf, and he felt the imperious need of a drink invading his mind. He knew a full bottle of whisky was waiting for him in his kitchen cabinet. It would chase the pain of rejection away.

With a deep sigh, Kíli got up and padded to the loo. He heard a faint whimper as he walked past the living room. At least, Molly was still there. Then he heard a groan. A dwarven one. Fíli hadn’t fled, apparently.

A bit relieved, Kíli tiptoed into the room. Fíli and Molly were still soundly asleep, though they were a bit agitated.

The dwarf eyed the trash can beside the couch with a disgusted glance. All this shit had to stop. Whether Fíli was still here or not.

A few minutes later, all the empty bottles were stored outside, ready to be recycled.

When Fíli awoke, the effects of the painkillers had vanished and the nausea and headache were back. So Kíli put the kettle on and made him tea.

“Lots of tea, biscuits, and an afternoon movie are the best hangover cure I know,” Kíli said cheerfully. “And I brought blankets. Now budge up.”

Fíli complied, partly because he felt too weak to resist and mainly because he was happy to do it. Being taken care of wasn’t part of his habits. And it felt nice.

Now wrapped in a blanket with a warm mug of tea in their hands, the two dwarves wondered what movie they could watch. Kíli had an impressive DVD collection.

With a laugh, they put “Aliens” aside immediately. Finally, they settled for a classic dwarfish comedy.

A few inches away from him, Kíli could feel Fíli’s body warmth beckoning him. Long minutes passed before he dared to move closer. The blond dwarf granted him access to his personal space with a shy smile and they cuddled together as if they were the last dwarves on earth.

Cuddles slowly turned into lazy kisses and the dwarves soon forgot about the movie.

“I’d like to braid your hair,” Kíli breathed. “With your permission, of course.”

“And I, yours,” replied Fíli with a tender smile.

The two dwarves brushed each other’s hair until it shone. Fíli was interweaving Kíli’s dark curls into an intricate braid when the latter spoke.

“So… You’re staying until Kenefick’s back?”

“Yes, that’s the plan. What are you thinking about?”

“You’ll return to Dublin in two weeks. I’m just wondering what will happen after your departure.”

“I don’t know. I like you, Kíli. I really do.”

After a few minutes of silence, Kíli took a deep breath.

“I’m willing to go to rehab. To stop drinking.”

Fíli stopped braiding and contemplated the dwarf in front of him.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

Kíli nodded, nearly upsetting Fíli’s work as he turned a little to look at Fíli.

“That’s what I want. I mean it. But I also know I won’t be able to do that here. I must find a clinic on the mainland. Óin is a nice man, but he can’t help me.”

Kíli’s eyes were serious, but calm. He knew now was the time to stop. Fíli smiled.

“We’ll talk about that in due time, ok? What about tomorrow? You could visit Óin and ask for advice.”

“Good idea.”

Fíli finished the braid he was working on, and flicked it against Kíli’s face. “There, your hair is done. My turn now.”

Kíli was deeply absorbed, the tip of his tongue sticking out, as he braided Fíli’s hair. The blonde strands felt like silk in his fingers, and the dwarf marvelled at their texture.

Outside, they could hear helicopters and loud motor noises as military vehicles drove past Kíli’s house. The island was secure again.

*~~~~*

The sun was setting and the tide was slowly going out. Among the rocks beside Narag Tharr caves, the last sun rays fell on three Akhlat eggs half buried in the sand.

TO BE CONTINUED...

(end credits song)

Bagginshield bonus!